The town didn’t care
an ocean was nearby;
diamond winking waves on a
waiting shoreline.
Voices small; determined shovels
and pails. Hot dog aroma, birch
beer fizzing on ice.
The place where sand and water
merge.
Eons of friendship between rocks and
splitting mountains. Valleys lay open;
byproducts of friction.
Under the nose of the town,
people walk, drive past
rarely seeing the ocean nearby;
a sad city without respect.
Roger Singer 