Features

The gleaming train car pushed away, 

Leaving me stranded in distant lands.

I clicked out of the damp tunnel

To a sea pushing against shifting sands. 

Minutes prior I left the hum of the city.

Now I approached the remains of lost time-- 

Burnished brass, burnt-out bulbs,

An island fallen from glory, newly covered in grime. 

I played my numb fingers in the wintry sea, 

Watched seagulls squabble and shout.

The sun was weak and the wind was fierce 

As I got back on route. 

I made my way towards the creaking pier,

The remains of summertime joy looming ahead. 

Instruments of amusement long out of use, 

Cracking paint and metal framework bleeding red. 

The decaying skeleton brought memories back 

Of what the island once stood for--

Sunscreen and liveliness, picnics and sunburns! 

But the island symbolized this no more. 

Once home to dizzying heights and roaring coasters, 

Ice cream dripping on sticky hands,

Throngs of people gathered for a day in the sun, 

Soft lapping onto burning lands. 

Like a watermelon in December or a pumpkin in August, 

Now, the rides and food stalls seemed out of season. 

Like a needlefish on dry land,

Disconnected, with no reason. 

I ambled towards the lineup of shops

Sure to find the sense of vitality I was missing.

Memories of cheerful cashiers and caramel set out to dry ran through my head. 

A flickering “open” sign jolted me out of my reminiscing. 

Inside the sweet shop was a familiar aroma.

Marshmallows and fruity confections wafted through the air. 

Yet the cashier looked at me with hungry, desperate eyes. 

We were ghosts to each other, quite a scare. 

Both of us were relics from the time before, no longer welcomed by the island. 

I left the shop with stale chocolate bought out of pity.

For a final time, I walked the pier lined with decrepit signs and attractions 

And once again set out, bound for the city. 

As I left the graveyard of what once had been, 

I decided not to mourn its passing.

I had changed, and the world had changed.

It was to an illusion that I was grasping. 

Decaying rides and flaking paint,

Memories filtered through desperate hands.

I did not mope or grumble,

Leaving for good the sea and its shifting sands. 

Ally McKay's poem won third prize in the Ninth Annual Humanities and Sciences Writing Contest. Ally is an aspiring illustrator and author, who dreams of illustrating her own works of literature. She is a class of 2024 Design major and wrote “A Q Train to Ocean Parkway” in Edwin Rivera's Writing Literature II class during foundation year.