Brighton Beach—The Newcomer
by Myron Ernst, 2005

The newcomer in baggy pants,
accordioned at the waist,
sleeves rolled up to the elbow, paused
at the top of the stone stairway
to the American sand; and they waved
when they saw him there—
Come, come, we are here,
nearer to the water's edge. He waved back
as a sign that he had seen them.

He took up his shoes, therefore,
in which his socks were stuffed:
his canvas bag with a towel,
a change of bathing trunks,
a newspaper for the subway, a sandwich,
an orange, a banana.

On the spread beach blanket
they talked about Poland, recently disappeared,
and while they talked, they glistened--their teeth did,
those that held to their gold.

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