L.A. Harbor |
just being here |
is enough sometimes: |
an occasional artifact |
of the time |
before this was built here, |
the brown stagnant surf |
trips tiredly onto the sand, |
stalling seagulls, |
a dingy sun, whose haze |
hides the tangle of derricks and cranes; |
weary children dragging their feet |
through sand piled by the tires of trucks; |
no holding hands, no playful splashing |
no practicing being in love. |
© Jon Bohrn (1999) |