She

Rockaway Beach

Before Sandy, the boardwalk on the right was the boardwalk on the left. Now it lays at an angle, curving jagged and broken into its mate. This bench, the lone remaining structure in a demolished landscape, is bolted to the sun-bleached and ocean-worn wood. There is a blue tag affixed to its left shoulder, surely marking it for future removal, preservation and honor. “This bench survived Hurricane Sandy.” But until then she sits at her post. 

Built for facing in, for holding tourists and toddlers with ice cream cones, now she faces out. Once average, now artifact, she sits looking into the currents that once consumed her, the ceaseless thunder of crashing waves filling the salty air. Tide ebbs in and out, light breaks and fades, and still she sits where she was built, gazing out into the wet gray blue.

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