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Looking at the modest buildings on Mermaid Avenue
The signs chatter English/Spanish/sort of Chinese
As the bright sun’s cracked rays splash walls and windows
You see that Mermaid is where locals go to pray at a Shrine
offering solace & recovery, buy mangos & apples & chicken
or get their hair done by African women all the way from Timbuktu
Surf Avenue is the boundary between neighborhood
and fun seekers noise & trophies & candy, beaches, bikinis & beer
There we spy the Secret Psychic’s Shack. She’s not there to offer
Solace in the name of a soul mate desired, but she does not need
to tell us about death, which is everywhere. Hear it in the shouts of
riders from the top of looping rides, in the Atlantic’s dark waves
& the cut flesh of burned hands of the fry cooks come for
“The American Dream,” but lately riding the night’s angry mares.
Streaming
November 10 | 7:30 PM
Annie Proulx with Michael Cunningham: Stories
