From that August sun
There were shadows
Which followed us back
Every evening
Down Victorian rows
Tracing sidewalks
Whose pavement cracked
Near the shore

And pursued our steps
Where we stayed
Across asphalt lots
Turning jagged
Watching countless cars
Come to visit
For their failed escape
Overdue

Before season’s end
Chasing neon
Or saltwater tears
After ice cream
Whose boardwalk dreams
Weren’t romance
But hearts left here
Going home –

How rented beds
Welcomed hosts
Laying echoes
Between faded linens
Like electric lips
Leaving whispers
With desk lamps on
Needing light

Fearing hands
Caressing such cheeks
Of lives spent lost
Seeking leisure
Only youngsters know
Booking getaways
Finding places
Haunted by ghosts

Buying trinkets
Being good guests
Making memories
Startled at seaside
By sweltering souls
Always fearing
What management
Never disclosed.

• J. Pigno