THE TRAIN TO CONEY ISLAND GOES ON FOREVER
The train to Coney Island goes on forever
Plastic blue benches
Where Summer sits,
Daily News clutched to its paw,
Crossword puzzles of eternal poems,
& women with no bras, in tight white shorts,
Upon whom I would leap, saying
Take me into you with exact change.
At the end of the line
Worlds spin with uncertain gaiety,
Ferris-wheeled licks of childhood,
The sun itself a ride of vacant chairs,
But everything is so expensive.
The fishing pier is a clutter of cards & dice,
Chug-a-lug gambling games crayoned upon cardboard boxes,
Fishing weights as markers,
The Spanish man throws
A black queen between 2 red ones,
If you win, you win, if you lose, you lose,
All along the boardwalk
Buildings stagger in a rotten reel.