Midwinter in Asbury Park
You only went there once, in the off season,
walked the boardwalk without a soul,
without music, nothing open, windows broken
here and there, pockets of dark,
pockets of light, of color, art and graffiti
until you can’t tell one from the other.
Sand fences rolled and piled on the beaches.
Driftwood piled up,
caught on the pylons of piers.
Just down the way, A week or few ago
a restaurant burned,
its blackened walls bulldozed into a mound,
waiting for removal before the season begins.
Midwinter in Asbury Park, singing to you
far more than when it is what it was made to be.
Nothing wrong here except perhaps you
enjoying it all far too much.
About this poem.
Inspired by the music playing at my favorite diner. Springsteen and Bon Jovi mostly.
Inspired by a weekend full of gatherings and people, a good time that flat wore this introvert out. And by the coming home and the quiet comfort of just me and the woman I love.
It’s pretty obvious where the picture was taken. And yes, it was midwinter and I loved it.
PS: For my many non-American readers, Asbury Park is a famous stretch of seaside beach resort famous for it’s blue-collar (working class) ethos and great rock and roll music, just south of New York City.