those mourning the Coney Islands of childhood

baffle me; I start to follow someone on his roller coaster squeals
and slip off into heated arguments blanketed on
hot sand stretching out the length of
my father's two week vacation I jumped waves
in rough ocean waters to escape from,
hauled back by my mother's fears I'd be pulled out
too far and was years later when
in a skimpy bikini let the sun
bring out all the heat I had teasing
the boy lying beside me who said,
"let's go beneath the boardwalk....

sand seeped into ice cream melting days
mustard smeared hot dogs and cotton candy
that looked better than it tasted
as I walked up & down the wooden planked boardwalk
with friends wondering where all
those cute boys we saw were when we were their age

the sun, always too strong for my fair skin
followed me to other beaches and deeper burns
decades from that Coney Island of my youth
whose wooden planked boardwalk is being replaced
the Ferris wheel with a big wonder wheel
and new shops charging outrageous prices;
I haven't been back, but they say
the ancient cyclone still roars loud as ever
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                           Linda Lerner