Sunday, May 22, 2011

Rockaway Beach, New York City Fringes


The sand is soft and warm beneath my feet
the water is cold and clear

Beyond the ocean England lies
though a thousand tongues are spoken here
seagulls are the same the world over

Few would walk miles along the beach
laughing at the shells of civilization
disused buildings, fences breached

A heap of clothes and shoes upon the shore
a boombox playing to itself
the party long dispersed amid the dunes

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