Page 16 - Contrast1981Springv24
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SOMETIME BEFORE MIDNIGHT
On a hotel porch,
sometime before midnight,
an old man quietly waits.
The boardwalk, in October,
has lost the food concession scent
that paints the wind
as it swirls by anxious pinball players
who grow fat on electronic tones;
Wrapped in a warm blanket,
he stares into the blackness
beyond the shore;
Pastel lights
no longer trace
the paths of teased amusement riders
screaming and circling
at the pier's edge.
Rocking-Rocking-Rocking.
Duane Char/ow
14
