Saturday, February 27, 2010

poem of the day 02.27.10

coney island in the snow

at the corner of mermaid and stillwell
there are no families coming off the train
with blankets and packed food
to hit the beach

there are no teenage girls
with tight asses in bikinis
torturing boys

no roller coasters running on tracks

no beer island full of aging jocks
drinking light beer
no seaside bars full of hipster drunks
playing kitschy songs on jukeboxes

there are no hot dog eating contests
or funnel cakes

no fat men sleeping on benches
with their fat wives

there’s just me

holding a cup of decaf coffee
in the crooked snow

watching the empty subway tracks

the only white guy around this time of year
breathing in the salt air of the ocean

as one derelict smokes a raspberry scented cigar
while screaming at someone
about how he slept outside all night
in the cold and snow and rain
even though he has six million dollars in the bank

as another genius checks payphones, hoping for a score i see why
everyone keeps raving
about this place

1 comment:

Unknown said...

poetic in its rawness. As an aside, having spent many summers at the Jersey shore, I can honestly say that there is nothing more creepy than a boardwalk out of season. In the snow, perhaps an more so...