Sauntering down the Boardwalk, shrug off the berating banners⁠—"Do Your Part"⁠—which I am so the newsdealer won't tear my ear off in righteous annoyance but he's just grouchy from last week when Mother toppled some smokestacks and retaliated with this acidic air but I couldn't care less yet still buy the paper anyhow 'cause even with that mask he's more scalding than the Sound. Her currents crash over the callous storefront-seafront like a battle cry with every inch reclaimed. Our surface-pure summer of beach balls and lifeguard podiums sunken under her rosy eventide lips, purging plastic swells to landfall, cleansing the undisturbed horizon.