Posted by: shorelineclusterpoets | December 9, 2013

When The Coast Was Clear

Museum of rain


1 “If you can make out Long Island way out there ”
wheezed the salty geezer who tottered at the counter –
pausing for dramatic slurps of weak coffee –
then scanning an oracular squint across the sound
“it will rain in three days”

2  My first ever job – beach shack food service –
for the three consecutive summers –
– minimum wage $1.40 and hour less $1.65 for lunch –
I worked every sunny day and had the rainy ones off
but no matter how many of each stacked up
the horizon blazed a brine glazed haze

3  Where I could wade into the tide of humanity,
particularly of the male variety –  preoccupied me too much –
even given this perfect opportunity –  to test his prediction

4  Named “Hammonassett” by the first people
the place where we dig holes in the ground
in my time the…

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