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April 2013, vol 9, no 1

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Mike Andrelczyk


Oxidation

There was only so much you could do with those brass bellhop carts. I had the brass polishing wax and an old soft cloth. They were old and years of mistreatment and the salty seaside air had caused the brass to become cloudy. The pale green process of oxidation was beginning. It was 7 o'clock and warm. Baseball games were starting all across the east coast. I went outside and thought vaguely of smoking a cigarette, a few cars drove by. Nothing was happening. I walked around the side of the hotel, to the back, past the pool and up the stairs to the roof. The breeze was light, soft and young. My mind went empty. The wind above, the sea shining below. Boardwalk lights sparkled, gulls cleared their throats. A bright pink sun was burning, burning away slowly. I stood there through the light blue to the dark blue. With the sound of the constant waves. I looked at my silver watch, it was just about time to clock out. No tips today.

the neon ghosts too –
looking up at
the buzzing stars




crane