under the boardwalk

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 

of strangers 

were as much mine 

under the boardwalk. 


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