Sunday, May 24, 2009

Bathing at Coney

I come to build sand castles,
to romp in and wrestle the tides;
the girl and the smile and the beach
beneath the sun; I come.

Around, around, around the whirling
wheels turn; around,
around the whirling world;
the oyster in the sea.

This rides me up and throws me down.
Your fantasies cling to me, splinter into me,

stick to me like the sand at the beach;
I come here amusing myself, a
grain in the dream.

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