Boardwalk Visions
Melissa Kolmar He was waiting for me down by the beach, Where all the poets and angels slept, Dreamers bleached by the sun, Smelling of salt and red wine, tobacco and seaweed. He was waiting for me on the boardwalk, Down by Madame Marie's fortune telling booth, Leaning on the old wooden railing I climbed on as a child. He doesn't move, just stares at the sea like he's communicating with it, Or controlling the ebb and flow of the crashing waves. I don't make a sound but he can sense me, Turns and gives me a smile. That smile makes the sun break through the fog on the horizon, Lighting the gray sand and the peeling paint on the arcade. As I move closer to him, the paint comes off in pale green flecks When I run my hands across it. The boardwalk is empty, It's too early for anyone but lovers reuniting after years of absence. I close my eyes and remember coming here as a child, The smell of the ocean and hotdogs, The sound of laughter and the bells and whistles of arcade games, A teenager's boom box and the crashing of waves. I open my eyes and run to him, feet pounding on the worn wooden boards. And then we are holding each other, kissing, laughing with love and joy. My perfect childhood meeting my perfect future In a swirl of sand and sea air. Somewhere on the beach one of the angels begins tuning a guitar, Plucking out chords from an old Flamingos tune. And I am home In this boardwalk vision. |