building
to disappear in the rain on the boardwalk
watch
the rise
here
ye here ye
it
is we
who
demand
more
vision to stay dry
as
waves lash fingers
into
all the rust of our mechanical follies
the
rickety rockets and tea-cup twirls
the
curl lugs of chains and seedy things
of
whipped sugary things
of
rings fried in grease
with
the ease of elbows dug in repose
who
knows that stars come to Earth to die
while
we stare past the hooded canopy of strung lights
and
their sodium sorrow borrowed from the Sea
are
we willing to burn
a
slow piece of forever
just
to peel what we paint
onto
memory to keep
from
fading into clapboard storefronts
and
the shoebox of skee-ball tickets saved
as
if we are collecting box tops
for
a red rider out of here
just
to be far enough away
so
we might be able to sleep in the rain tonight
drink
the tides, and let go back into the dark
with
the fertility of lightning
and
an instance of pure surrender
EJR
©
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