Larry's Blog

CONEY ISLAND

Is coney Island really an island?
We came here as kids
on the Sea Beach Express.
We returned as adults on the N train.

Is coney Island really an island?
We came here as kids
on the Sea Beach Express.
We returned as adults on the N train.
Like a faded photograph of all those years
where small waves wash up
mussel shells upon the shore
the beach awaits us on a Friday afternoon.

Fancifully, I ask the hot dog man at Nathan’s
how many years he’s been working here
thinking the impossible that he extends
into my childhood memories.
He replies “A year or two”.

As you walk from a certain spot
sand is your only horizon.
I snap a photograph of my sister
and my son - Sahara in the city.
The pier at Steeplechase
has concrete pilings now.
The old wood posts, barnacle-encrusted,
succumbed to storms and winters long ago.

Like a distant flag
exulting in the southerly breeze
my heart at once realizes
spring. April hours transmute
to gold. Cloistered hope
swings open windows
dreams take wing
where water softens against the sky.