I walked under the boardwalk
where the sand turns to rock and
cigarette butts decorate the room.
where light only enters in creases of time
and small animals feast on fast food.
I sat in this spot and wondered
about the feet overhead.
where were they going?
what was their story?
everyone has a story.
when I sat long enough
the clicking of the boards would
and I would hear a chapter of a life.
a sick wife.
a cake to be ordered.
a child in trouble.
a promise kept.
joys and sorrows
were as much mine
under the boardwalk.