tagNon-Erotic PoetrySeaside Midsummer

Seaside Midsummer

byAngeline©

Jersey Shore summers
are brilliantly sticky.
The boardwalk dusty.

Hot sand whirls up your knees
from indifferent breezes
that slide waxed paper,
the odd french fry cone
down the wood.

You can hear them scrape.
It all mixes with barkers,
screams, laughter, oldies.
Kids' eyes are big.

They sparkle
like my boy's did
after such a long day
into darkness, the neon
and flash.

Twilight shifts to couples
entwined in cut-offs
and tank tops. Soon
it will be raucus,
and my boy
is a little boy,

so we play one
more game. The odds
are terrible. I tried
to steer him to darts
and balloons, but no,
even now he is
strong willed.

He curves his wrist back,
and the ball somehow
falls like ripe fruit
into Green 33.

We take the black
stuffed dolphin.
The big one.
Life is beautiful.

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