the boardwalk

stomach turns in sour circles
knots of nervousness and doubt
the seconds slowly slide around the clock
the sound and the fury of the summer masses
beats the drum of a thousand footsteps
on the pavement two feet away.

i am removed, from them
from time.
the sickly sweet summer breeze
the rays of soft sunlight,
remind me that i am not home.
trapped in this revolving door
the sweet lies spun like cotton candy
the trust collapsing like an upended cone
dreams crumbling like so many grains of sugar
strewn about the floor, impossible to pick up.

back where I was three, two, one year ago.
like a never ending dream.
the buckling letters of the tattoo on the calf
of the fat man pushing a stroller
ordering his deep fried twinkies,
feel like a mockery, a tease,
"i have everything i need to be happy right now"
my faith is shaken, i need a change of scene

can't go forward: to enchanted castles,
singing hills, lips heavy with accents and beer,
and feet that have traveled 10,000 miles.

can't go back: to soulmates,
simple times, lips soaked in diet coke and smiles,
and feet that need not move for happiness except to dance.

can't go over it.
can't go under it.
must go through.