water licks the quay
tasting concrete not sand
determined to find welcome

one wave, fraught with foamy fervor
    demands attention and
    ebbs reluctantly
another, hardly noticed
    crawls away defeated

never-ending swells
rise from the depths of a bay
    crisscrossed with struts and steel
bound on three sides by
     tacky tourist traps
    soul-less mansions

waves of tears from decades past
emerging from an immigrant isle
less angelic than its name
salt-tinged waves seep under a golden bridge
entering these protected waters
with no identity except hope
now doomed to lick and find
    no nourishment

never able to rise above the jutting wall of
sharp-edged boulders
positioned to keep them in their place
    beneath
    below
yet still they come
with relentless repetition
fueled by courage that defies reason
seeking what they do not have