At Rockaway Beach,
I am four, pedaling
my little red fire
engine
as fast as my
imagination
rescuing
residents,
faces petrified
framed in open
windows…
At Rockaway Beach,
I parade
down the
boardwalk, breathe salt air
the city gives me
its keys
—and today the sun
is so distinct
I can see each
ray—
I am 54 and still
smell ocean air.
