𝘣𝘺 𝘙𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘩 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰 𝘑𝘳.
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘑𝘰𝘦 𝘚𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘵𝘻
If I were an alien and had just landed here,
had had no human contact,
held no human fear.
Would I experience the hollow quick dread,
coming on the open cold framework
of Flushing Meadows’ World’s Fair dregs?
Would I walk on my way,
to out and beyond.
over L.I.E. concrete and Calvary’s graveyard play?
“Towards the sea”, “towards the sea”,
I’d spit with forked tongue.
All soon to be at Coney Island’s wooden fence rungs.
And I’d see that great exoskeleton—Cyclone his name says—
Lost mayhem and danger,
all wind-whipped and dead.
And I’d think what a wonder, such marvels abound.
come all these skeletons,
to one small seaside town.