22

Charles Pier
the people here
will be about to leave all night.
A family per bench slobbers on ice cream cones
and plans only their next bites.
Next to shiny-leaved bushes,
A smell of cold cigarette.
Crackly red feet pound cheap sandals into the gravel.
They squint through their dark lenses
at the sun
between the skeleton
of the forgotten roller coaster on the bay.