Santa Cruz

Screams, happy screaming echoes across
The dirty, red trash can beach scene and into the ocean
Only to be pushed back by barking seals.
The hydraulics of the Double Shot and rollercoaster
Are more jarring even despite hearing them ten times each.
The lifeguard stand could itself be a spaceship ride
And a two way radio echoes from the inside.
It is a woman’s voice and there is very little chance
That she is beach weather attractive. I am the oldest person
Here by years and I only just learned how to change a tire
And make love with my eyes open.
Is it better to have seagulls or pigeons when you’re trying to have a good time?
Boards and tattoos and accents
Are the only form of identification
Around the funnel cake man and the last guy got fired
For winking at a high school girl who was flirtatious enough to wear braids
In her chlorine green and uncomfortably beautiful hair.
All the children on the beach are digging to China
And their skin cancer parents cheer on with the champagne
Of beers and a knowing chuckle.
In accordance with southern California beach regulations,
The sun is only exposed every other moment, replaced
In the interim by a cold sweat sea breeze and graying seagulls.