33 Years

Remnants of an unnamed
storm still smashing
against the Long Beach Island shoreline. Reception still
good. Saturday Night Live
rerun in full ridiculous swing.

Who’s the host? Who remembers?
Two bodies

entwined as if the rest
of the world’s become a silent movie
during intermission. Her first—not
his. Memory captured and recorded. The world resumes
its 1979 footage.


Hairless brown ones
drop from urban tree branches
to clutter the sidewalk
with warning signs. Nowhere
near the Jersey Shore,
memories fall harder
and evaporate to become
invisible sagas
no one wants
to repeat. I would give
anything to see that condensation
on bark again.