Michelle Bonanno | Coney Island, 1995

Fine diamonds of tan sand

crush between my toes as I

rush to the crowded carnival of beach.

We are on a safari,

battling tree top umbrellas and vicious vendors

for the perfect paradise.

Coconut cream blends into skin,

as childish feet flee the shade

of our rainbow tree.

My limber body dances

with salty waves to the music of faraway

ship horns and boardwalk melodies.

Buttery explosions of popcorn

mix with Nathan’s Famous –

a heavenly attraction

towards the concession stand.

Coney’s mechanic adventures

illuminate the night sky.

The twisting turns of the Cyclone,

The circling of the Wonder Wheel –

we twirl across the midway,

high on tooth aching cotton candy.

Time to go, whispers the island.


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