Coney Island

I cross the boardwalk to the sand to the Atlantic,
the color of green quartz. No waves. 
Just a few folds in the ocean.

So many heads, and necks, and shoulders. And shells. 
I’d like to take one home: the one that’s orange,
almost gold. 

It might slip through my fingers like 
the worm I once tried to save from oncoming traffic. 

That worm, he must have looked like mud 
when he spattered those tires.

Cirrus clouds are the innards of pillows, newly ripped. 
I’m licking peppermint ice cream. 
Dipping my feet in the water.

My soles graze the seashells. 
I still haven’t made it home: 
my body.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

wonderful...........Needs a musical background.....not for distraction but enhancement....it reminds me of a spoken track by Van Morrison...lilting and dreamlike

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

I rather like this poem! I'm especially grinning because one of my friends is from there and I've been there a lot just to hang out. I like the imagery here, and it is definitely an accurate depiction

[zainul]

Many stories told in lovely magical words on ocean,beach and home.
Stories of tragic death of the worm under the murderer tires,orange seashell, peppermint ice cream,dipping feet in the water and getting sweet home are nicely placed in a string.
I felt the same Coney Island like you.
Thanks for sharing.

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid read and write on Coney Island...Thank you for sharing...:)