She stood a the end of the pier,
glistening in her bikini
like the Great American Dream,
a wonderful sight to behold.

And I would be the fortunate one,
to take her far away from the Manhattan skyline
to where the trees give way to sand.

And there, blessed
by the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
we would run from the church in white,
to duck, to cover,
as they throw the rice
that falls invisible to the ground.

July 1984