Oceanside

Pounding waves rake the pilings, white foam all across sea. Sand blowing over the road, lapping worn facades of beachfront motels--their Oceanside names--La Siesta--half a century of faded stucco, bleached tile. Not listed on any of the guides, low end-- with off season rates, some boarded up. A single shorebird at lip of incoming wave, rest of beach empty. A soccer ball--blue and white--blowing across the sand, very much on its own. Anomie--or maybe not even that. Marine Corps hair cuts, young guys in uncomfortable civilian clothes--what they've brought from somewhere else. Locals--as chalky as the walls, ungainly face of young boy at Horne and Mission--with his mother, the same features, and his mother's mother too--an ageing girl. His head at an angle, a long box, imagined future containing much of the same...