Atlantic City, facade to the god
Money on the edge of America
where the sea and the air share a sky there
before Christopher Columbus came, raped
and pillaged the place. Lights, loud music
and free drinks in all of the casinos
make it difficult to hear or see or
think as coins slip into the machines
taking hundreds and giving back fifteen.
On the beach waves break, make comforting sounds.
A child runs up disturbing what I write.
“I saw a crab!” she says excited. I’m
happy—I’d looked and hadn’t seen any.
What she tells me is better than money.
A Wave in Atlantic City by Akram