walk along the cold beach
of Coney Island,
the sea a violent wash in
all directions,
we remember
how we met
on the sun-bleached sand,
the boardwalk,
but that was then,
this is
now.
we're still holding hands,
still in
love.
but the world has changed
around us,
the rides
have rusted
and broken down.
nearly everyone has aged
or died.
there's nothing left here to
romanticize.
we don't stay long.
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