507 Readings | 2 Ratings

After Labor Day

Tattoed with the markings of their tribe,
tan boys in baggy shorts and sunbleached
girls in faded bikinis sip 7-11 coffee
on the Belmar boardwalk, while
black-suited surfers bob like seals and
the grey-green sea folds and unfolds,
folds and unfolds, and spills ashore
in the lulling rhythm of the slow
slack morning, until one tall figure
rises from the foam, a miraculous dancer
gliding god-like across the monochromatic
horizon of the worn-out ebbing season.
Posted 10/28/09
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