5th&Atlantic

The walk is in full tilt,
 t-shops crammed with the
 usual mix of tourists, fled
 to the beach from Canada
 or the Midwest, and local
 daytrippers who have packed
 their cars with everything
 they thought would be of
 use, but still find themselves
 in the traps overspending for
 snacks and bottled water,
 film and suntan lotion,
 knick-knacks they bought
 at least once before,

 I watch, not the way I did
 growing up here, when we would
 come down and sit on breaks
 from Flipper's playing Robotron or
 the first Star Wars arcade games,
 sit and savor soft ice cream and
 mustard-lined soft pretzels while
 quizzing passing tourists as to
 where they were from, collecting
 bets from each other afterwards.

 No, now my eyes gravitate more
 towards just enjoying the view,
 tight jean, tighter shorts, swimsuits
 as risqué as any seen in the fashion
 shoots (even if only visible beneath
 purposely sheer outer garments),
 and making eye contact, maybe
 small talk, with passing beauties
 more open to moving beyond
 such opening gambits since they
 know exactly what a summer fling
 is all about.