Revere Beach
A poem by Kevin M. Carey

A long line of sea-soaked pillars
stands wading like a mystery,
tokens to a changing tide
soldiers guarding history,

once above these crippled legs
they strolled on summer nights,
folks in spats and large brimmed hats
reflecting colored lights,

big band sounds that still resound
against a starlit eve,
a single-engine piper,
flying sailors home on leave,

howls from a roller coaster
hi-fly diving horses,
bellows from a carnival boaster
a cowboy's roping hoaxes,

fun house mirrors and circus faces
long hot dogs and monkey races,
tall pole sitters, spooky critters,
and lines of marathon dancers,

there are no couples dancing
on the splinterred soldiers now,
only vacant reasons,
why the players have all bowed;

the narrow-gauge grew old one day
the crowds all fled by car,
sailors stopped coming, rides stopped running,
and night clubs turned to bars,

fires torched the wooden frames
the final parting message,
and storms swept out the ashes
past the beach's only vestige;

a tired set of crooked legs
reminds us ever more,
the show has left the boulevard
and closed tight all its doors,
and the last great cowboys do their tricks
away on other shores.

Page Last Updated 01/13/98

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