Sauntering down the Boardwalk, shrug
off the berating banners—"Do Your Part"—which I am
so the newsdealer won't tear
my ear off in righteous annoyance
but he's just grouchy from last week
when Mother toppled some smokestacks and retaliated
with this acidic air but I couldn't care
less yet still buy the paper anyhow 'cause even with that mask
he's more scalding than the Sound.
Her currents crash over the callous
storefront-seafront like a battle cry
with every inch reclaimed. Our surface-pure summer
of beach balls and lifeguard podiums sunken
under her rosy eventide lips,
purging plastic swells to landfall,
cleansing the undisturbed horizon.