CuppaGemma

Bedford and Avenue H,
schoolbooks riding unbelted shotgun
cross to Ocean Avenue, not Bay Parkway
weaving with buses, sanitation
trucks, cement mixers and straight
backed brick apartment buildings
in red with attached fire escapes
and retirees in folding chairs

Green means go, and the kid
whose radio outprices his car
can certainly plow ahead while
I pull over at the fruit shop
when the long gray curb smiles
“space”, popping my quarter in
leaving like Santa smiling with
bagged nectarines, plums, hot bread

Then take the alphabet
down past Avenue Z to Voohires
by Lundy’s once again
merge on the Belt,
under the “El”, for a moment,
beside the ocean, for a few more
till I hit the bridge winding
up Verrazano’s approach…

Take the top level
to feel the wind, and
merge across impatient lines
to toss out my token,
now an electric pass
raising that orange arm
with a startled jerk
to cross more lanes for

Father Capadano Boulevard
South Beach, the Basillio Inn
and Sand Lane, (which lost its carousel
for condominiums
and a dolphin fountain)
as the boardwalk lines the drive
and the marsh brush still waves
bending with green and tan

One last turn
down on Slater
with its evolution
of tract houses
taking me back
through decades
till I hit  my parents’ home