Coney Island in Winter and at Night

                                                                                                   Name
                                                           

                                       Title

                                                                     
         

Coney Island in Winter and at Night

The lights of Sandy Hook and Breezy Point frame Gravesend Bay.
Their reflection dancing on the waves, pushed by a briny whirling winter wind.
The shore saturated by the rhythmic regularity of the Atlantic's oceanic heartbeat.
The Boardwalk barren of perambulating pedestrians.
Gone the screaming children, the young lovers, the doting aged twosomes.
The winter wind rattling the gates of closed shops, blowing sand into tiny dunes.
The amusements still and silent, casting baroque shadows on empty sidewalks
The wooden coaster, the carousel, the wonder wheel standing empty and dark.
The parachute jump the only thing lit so low flyers and fishing boats can see a landmark.
The ballpark and amphitheater ghost towns and graveyards.
On the avenue, skells rummage through trash to find a half-eaten hotdog from Nathans.
All their earthly belongings is a shopping cart purloined from Pathmark
They jump the turnstile at the terminal and take refuge on a train to sleep in warmth.
Working girls and ladyboys in cheap fake furs walk in and out of the shadows hoping for tricks.
A homie on a BMX wearing the right colors so he isn't clipped, hangs with his niggas.
Gypsy cabs and dollar vans wait outside the terminal for those too afraid to take a bus or walk home.
The trains roar in and out of the terminal in clocked intervals, last stop, and first stop going to Manhatta.
Small cluster of passengers sit in the Conductor's car for a false sense of safety
Cop cars cruise not stopping for red lights, not looking for bad guys.
It will be this way until Spring


         G.F. Frontera 2024                              0