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Click hereJersey 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.
Hot sand whirls up your knees
from indifferent breezes
that slide waxed paper,
the odd french fry cone
down the wood.
Come on, I've read these exact same words in about 12 different poems in the last few days. Really, I have. You don't believe me, do you? I bet you'd rather me to just say "God, ange, this is a great poem!" No, I'm not going to do that. :)
..it doesn't really matter where you live, a carnival is a carnival..and this brings back lovely memories ... cept the time i was running with too many sticks of cotton candy, ran into a big metal rod, knocked myself out! atleast the kind lady was good enough to replace my cotton candy!lol
This had a melancholy to it at first - perhaps it is the bleakness of this image -
"Hot sand whirls up your knees
from indifferent breezes
that slide waxed paper,
the odd french fry cone
down the wood."
but then Ange brings her own brand of magic to play and draws this wonderful image of a special moment with her son.
....memories spoken by a beautiful tongue. I know the stands, the french fries.....it's all there.