on the pier

on the pier you smell fish and saltwater/or you might be inside a shack to buy a hat/and you hear seagulls and tenor-clanging bells/and you might see a huge grey battleship at the edge of vision

on the pier you lean on the rail/and resonate with incoming crash of surf/and you are pulled by a sea that sings to your dna/of home

on the pier an excited boy catches his dinner

while a wandering-eyed husband catches hell

you walk from the pier to the boardwalk/rent a bike and build a breeze for your face

you glide and look backward and see that the pier you were on is shrinking/and you turn around to make it grow again

turn in the bike pay and walk to where you had been and are welcomed by a calm pelican who gives you a tiny nod

on the pier