I’m standing at the end of the world
It’s where salty air grips your throat violently
And then becomes pleasurable
It’s where the sea meets the sky
In a dull blue line
Before me

It’s where the wind caresses the tiger lilies
In big ceramic vases
Where the street glimmers
With diamonds and emeralds of broken glass
Where children’s thundering, heartbeat ­footsteps
Pound as they race for the rides
In bright and foamy sandals

It’s where the garbage and mystery
Flirt lazily with murder
Where the seagulls converge
On plump, glossy trash bags
Where the flies hum
Their own ode to the stench
Amplified in June’s humidity

It’s where the tiny diner stands
As it implodes from within
Where nothing ever changes around here
It’s the immortality that lurks
In the peeling, stained wallpaper
And the sticky linoleum floors
And the cigarette-tainted voices of the waitresses

I’m standing at the end of the world
This is the city limits
Your world limits
You don’t go any further from here
I’m bracing myself on the edge
So only the ocean can laugh at me now