Benjamin Pinkard

The Pier at 27

Closed, endless, firm, perfect
my sweet says old movie kisses hit different.
Benches bent anti-sleep
& more skyscrapers on shore

jump from our eyes
go splat on scrawny palms
& a lazy sea
licking dusk’s last drops.

Old bands do old favorites,
cement lips dark water
wahoo & fluke swirl
till stars’ jolly rogers unfurl.

Soft wrack twins beer cans
twinning horseshoe crabs
the yeti-faced dogs must nose
whose owners, the beachgoers,

waver out & in
of boredom. A there there
in scenes hawked for entry halls
apologizes in squalls

making trawlers stop
horses buck cops
flyaways pet faces
of friends

screaming & laughing
down the pier lighting
me & my sweetie kissing
in the oldie of our heart!

Benjamin Pinkard is a socialist who works in elder care.