Coney Island Hymn: Shore

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They clap their hands together 
            and shout out 
            and sing the same song 

They rise up and sway with the tide 
Arms reach up 
            to clouds while 

            their own bare feet dangle 
            to scrape bottom 
                        and make tornadoes of sand and salt 

You sit where probing waves 
            nearly reach 
                                    your tanned toes 

            and hum the same song 
And you think 
            that if you could either slide 

            quickly in with them 
            and sing out 
                                    or race to the Boardwalk 

            it would be better than sitting there 
            poised for worship 
                                    in a dry swim suit