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)

 

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