An anthropology of space? A Cape May
Scenario: porches, hammocks, flags; lawns
Without stone ornaments, small windows
That are bow-shaped for the sea wind,
Mail boxes with salt-air-withered signs,
The pavements narrow enough for a child
To feel grownup for a moment while his parents
Tip-toe around a large toy and then carry him
To the beach. The street dirt is sand.
Off in China the Olympics are starting
Without a sound as the authorities number
The torches and athletes. Space is more real
Here. A bird I’ve never seen before flies
Over the beach with a cry I’ve never heard.
The ocean slams into the shore, rocks breaking
The sand every few hundred yards, reminders
Of the rest of the world far from this sunny place,
Its waves rolling back as if to pull you
Into the past which has more space than ever.