Stood Up Poem by William B. Deutscher

Evening glides
its sorry course
on the ocean breeze
of night,
and the day
is done
at the drop
of the sun;
I wait
in the dying light
near the hot dog stand
on the Boardwalk now
as the dark descends.
This must end,
somehow.
Where is she
making the circuit
perhaps
all over town
in her merry way
while tourists stroll by
and down the street
you hear music play?
Give her another
twenty minutes or so
wasting time
in the sea-washed air,
then say goodbye
to the throbbing foam
and wander around
nowhere.