slats unsteady slanted, pre-boardwalk patch
1920's wet wool sinking, down through rot
built above and sealed with sand, and swept
by night I lost my shoe and dodged these crawling tires
the merrier the trick of false remembrance;
two years then past hot-weather bug rebirth
(myself a teen at last and twenty-five) and kissing twice is every year
the kinked-up line and through the cage, a history of failures
far below and never-ending, the hapless land, the homes
I see a moment of the world in bungalows
linked constellation style, mysterious points
demolished and replaced and always will
be weak, desired, small wooden Greek tragedians
by towers wooed and crushed
and down she swings and I am hungry,
full of fry and was it your first time?
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