The boardwalk creaks a drum beat with
visitor, walking back and forth on the wood.
Rides jam a blues of screams and
laughter. Cash registers after every fourth beat.
with soft clicks. Debit and credit cards swipe
faintly after every second. Doors slam like
cymbals. Low tides chime in as if
it's a bass. High tides thumps in like a
lead guitarist's solos. Gulls squawk echo
in sync with melodies and harmonies.
Gust of winds chime in the distance
as back up singers. Feet sink into grains
of shell with a sly peep. Footprints
are memories left behind, leading toward
and away from the green blue water. Visitors
screeching as they come and go. The waves
sing a solo after midnight until sunrise as the
world counts sheep then falls into the clouds
of dreams. Sunrises hits and music starts,
in a different tune with rain drops splashing on
the wood or water, the ocean is crying. Tears
of happiness or sadness.
YOU ARE READING
The Real Jersey Shore
Non-FictionMy senior thesis about the Jersey shore. I compared MTV's "Jersey Shore" to the verison I grew up in. The point is to show readers in other states what the shore is really like from thr history to beauty.
