Ocean City

I saw it then as my own little Shangri-la,
for I was very small and knew nothing
of the big world, the grown-ups’ world.

And for the child-me it was nirvana,
that little town on a barrier island
between the gray, cold, untamed and
endless Atlantic Ocean and the quiet,
near somnolent bay where the boats
of the less brave could sail safely….

I could ride my bike from Nana and
Pop-pop’s little house on that bay,
feeling as free as the myriad seagulls
swirling forever above my head--
I ‘d ride ‘cross town to the boardwalk
and if I had a dollar, see a movie by
myself, feeling like a proud little lord--
I remember as though yesterday, and
not 60 some years, my favorite theater,
with its long darkish hall that looked
like the entrance to a pirate’s den,
lined with displays of model sailing
ships, mostly men-o-war chasing, yes,
pirates, but never catching them….

But most afternoons I was happy to
just sit quietly on the porch of my
grandparents’ house, smelling the
dinner Nana was making while I
read of countless dreams in books,
books that captured like a pirate
his prey, and took me round the
world in the finest and fastest
sailing ship of all--imagination!