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Seven Times 22: Dane Street Beach

 

I’m writing on the wall
Seconds from the waves
The old man collecting seashells by the seashore
It’s me

Seagulls rest on the rolling coast ocean
Big blue house rests on the hill
It’s me, It’s me

Two towers of coal smoke stands
Big blue gas tank stands
A rock on the ocean’s floor sits
It’s me, it’s me, it’s me

Breakwaters
Greener knolls
You know I’m gone like a cool breeze
It’s me, it’s me, it’s me
It’s me

I am who I am
Clouds clamber aggressively
Over one another
Wet leaves dig-in
Dying into the sand
Along the seawall
Kissing tomorrow’s winter
Upon the palm of her face

 

Andrew Borne is 2 Cups Poet 1 teaspoon Musician 1/4 teaspoon Salt 1/2 cup Absurdity 3/4 cup Chef 1 egg, beaten 2 1/3 cups Family Man. Mixed together and served raw. His column 7x appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.

 

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1 thought on “Seven Times 22: Dane Street Beach

  1. There’s a disjointed story here, painted in melancholy and a delicate choice of images. I enjoyed how you shattered the loose pattern in the first half by the swift cascade of metaphor in the end, leaving behind a sweetness and hints of a love story. Kudos!

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