The Piers

A walk poem that explains my memories at the pier as well as the thoughts I wonder a fellow student Max had before falling from the pier this last February.

I never realized how high the waves crash

Against the concrete

Crumbling into the boulders surrounding it,

Protecting it.

Letting the rust collect on the lines

For safety

When we all know they can break

From the slightest push against its edge.

Don’t go to close and peer over

As it might swallow you whole

Like the sky does to the lighthouse along its end.

 

I used to love the idea of climbing that lighthouse.

It made me think I could be at the world’s edge.

Looking over an endless sea (though it really ends near Canada…)

Wishing I could travel to those ends when older and wiser.

But then came reality.

Stuck in a town that never lets you go

With low-lifes

With deadbeats

With death and constant fear

Houses collapsing

Abuse and personal destruction

 

Yet, I remember the days of fishing

The days of wild animals

Running through those boulders

Hunting for the fish we would throw out and kill

The families we would become friends with

Just for a few hours

The naivety that will never be there again

 

Some days I wish the waves were higher

Where they could sweep me away

And let me live my dying fantasies

While I dance beneath the sea