Goodbye, Jersey
(inspired by Goodnight, Moon, by Margaret Wise Brown.)
The sun is high The air is still And everything that will be, will. Cars racing on the GSP and the lady conductor asking, “tickets, please.” Summer, trees, hydrangeas Cool ocean breeze and jughandles Every town in descending order, and memories calling from every corner Goodbye, Jersey Goodbye, Shore Goodbye all the Wawa stores Rt 35 & 36 Radio stations’ eclectic mix Beginning in Red Bank, on the Navesink River and traipsing around the state together, Gingerbread houses in Ocean Grove Twin Lights beaming from above, Like an old, cherished love, “You have not changed!” (never will!) Yet, the train moves forward, still. Goodbye, Jersey Goodbye, Al Goodbye horses, farms, and cows Goodbye ocean breeze, and salty air and Jersey Girls everywhere. Summer Love
They met in the summer,
on the south end of Pawleys Island where the waves slap high-fives and the north wind runs free. And on one star-filled night, while the moon shone bright, the green marsh fell deeply in love with the blue sea. You could feel it everywhere, their love was swirling in the air. She loved his blue intensity, he loved her green positivity. It was right as the tides, so it came as no surprise, when the dashing blue groom, took the luminous green bride. For the great wedding feast came the turtles, from the east and other privileged guests, including the egrets from the west. The mullets came from up north, a procession of pelicans from down south, and the blue creek crabs just popped in, unannounced. “I will love you when it storms, and when its sunny, I will rejoice.” “I will provide a place for you, I will listen for your voice.” “And whether the tides are high or low, no matter how the wind blows, we will ride it all together so our precious love grows.” As long as time will be, every year on Pawleys, all shall celebrate the day the green marsh married the blue sea. Because Forever, the blue sea will run his gentle fingers through her hair. Forever, the green marsh will whisper sweet nothings in his ear. And when only sand and shells remain, the air will still smell like champagne. |
First ☊It was in a dream
in a low-light room in a box of matches from a pocket It was a rapid friction a flare of passion reflected in dark eyes It was in a dream I sometimes tell myself where nothing I touched could touch me back It was in my skin in the evidence of the scars, the burns, the scratches In a crying moment in a chosen fashion that a game of arms struck like matches in the beating heart of a dream pleasure & pain are the same muscle. Ultra Marine
Once upon a time I spent 10 days on a sailboat in the ocean, sailing north. The blue water has been calling me back ever since.
Ultramarine Gulf Stream liquid conveyor belt carry my dreams let me skip along your surface don’t let me get too deep Each periwinkle morning turns to a turquoise blanket of hope entreating us to sail boldly past the continental slope And in the afternoon a bluefin tuna of iridescent azure is plucked from the waters with a silver spoon lure Sir, we royally salute you and your noble fate served up, shimmering, upon a sapphire plate Herculean cerulean yet effortlessly triumphant we scan for the next horizon to grasp the earth’s circumference until we rest our heads under a diamond indigo shawl the blue will fuel our reveries- sailors, explorers, dreamers, all. August
This night is
a fuzzy, fleshy peach which I aim to take a bite of just knowing that it won’t be long before I am covered in sticky, sweet juice dripping from my fingers running down my arms. This night is a sultry dream a far-away jazz tune brought by a wayward breeze laid at my feet an offering, a promise I intend to keep. This night is ripe. |
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