I got to Asbury first, then to Ocean Grove, searching the shore line for whales I would otherwise see later during my trip to Cape May, this stroll through memory lane, from that time way back when I came here looking for girls, the Stone Pony still fresh with the echoes of the Boss’ music, later coming back lost, after part other Casino fell, no Latin lovers, just the hum of a sea I could not see in the dark of night, but felt, and still feel, each time I come, the pleasure palace, humping those silly machines, roller bladers passing under the crumbling arch, sand dunes rising nearby with people sweeping it for hidden treasure, and even in the dead of winter, I search for rumors of whales, like angels who might come to save me, as I stumble along the boardwalk, passed the shops selling seaside junk, aching now as I ached as a kid, searching for something I lost or never had, this place full of ghosts, full of things that stick inside me.
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