Behind me the last train to Rockaway
daubed with incomprehensible graffiti
rattles back across the bay.

Behind me also the City lights
still burn as bright
But for me the day is over

Nearby cottages stare silently their lace curtains
Hang limply alongside windows dark and blind
I cross two asphalt roads
empty of traffic at this hour

Sand grits beneath my work boots and then
Sand is all there is
The ocean's shore

My steps are suddenly silent
Atlantic waves repeat one word, endlessly
Thalassa, Thalassa... far out to sea
a freighter's lights do duty for the stars

A storm is brewing
the first drops, invisible meteors
make craters in the sand

Ignored I simply become
Part of the sea, the shore
and the rain.