|Ocean City, New Jersey|
The sea's rough, the dark water rises, and its angry grasp threatens to pull in the naive walkers, the giggly couples, and the pressured teenagers who dare themselves and others to jump in, to skinny dip or to jeer its angry roars. The sea is a place I go to relax. I am in a new place, so close to the sea that you can actually walk there. I like it by night, but I am never alone. I stand with strangers who are soon to be friends. Persons I barely know, but feel a sense of closeness, so much so that I wish to tell them everything that bothers or makes me happy.
The sea can hold your secrets, never spilling them to anyone, yet it doesn't apologize for those who it takes and never returns. It pulls them under, get into their minds, until they stop kicking, stop hoping. But a few days after, joggers, girls in skimpy bikinis and chiseled boys run along the shore, dodging the freezing, yet inviting liquid, dark as night and tempting as the Devil.
Its large home is where I sit and watch seagulls roam, and accept food from those willing to give. The salty air is fresh and one inhale can make you drunk with satisfaction of a life that is not exactly the best. I sit and observe, bottle all the stress, release the laughter,as it rushes and attempts to grab you, and invites you to a place where it doesn't guarantee you will return. Yet we long for summer days to go by the sea.