How Many Poems Can You Write About The Beach?
Five is the answer
after that the words repeat themselves
and the mind wanders off
to wherever it was you came from
for me, it’s New York
with its filth and its noise
homeless men shitting in the park
stockbrokers copping subway feels
police stealing everybody’s taxes
and not paying for their slices
From over here I can finally see
that city as it really is
a cruel, capitalist torture chamber
a playground for the rich
while the people that keep it running
wait for overnight trains
or idle their lives away on the BQE
Fuck you, New York, I say aloud
and take a sip of my cold Mythos
so grateful to be here, on this beach
a world away from that concrete cage
Good riddance, you piece of shit place,
good fucking riddance.
But then the wind shifts, bringing a hint of low tide
with its musk and its brine, a scent not unlike piss
and for a moment there, I almost thought I was home