life times & love

they still have their old bathing suits on

blue with lines wrapping around their waists

and ankles that fade from the touch of the ocean

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they sleep on the boardwalk,

near the freakshow where they comfort

the Cyclops human and his misshapen family

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the ghosts of coney island hide in the winter

they sunbathe while no one is looking

and tan their toes under the grey clouds

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the wind whispers around their ears

twisting their hair around the barbwire

and plastic bags stuck on the top of trees

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it doesn’t bother them,

since they are simple folk

remembering the time of 1927

when they screamed at the top of their lungs

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getting closer to the sky than they ever have before.

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the ghosts of coney island dance in the dark,

while the neighborhood lights glow

and the sea lions next door honk an appalling tune

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and they dip their sweethearts near the ground

sweeping them back into their arms

while tip toeing back down the boardwalk