Water Mill Sixty Four

Counting cars on the Montauk Highway
Summer nights in our
Thirties gambrel
Headlights on my bedroom wall and the story they will tell -
Of one mercedes, two mercedes, three mercedes, four
Water Mill, Nineteen Sixty Four.

Raw potatoes on Rose Hill Road, Kicking cans along the way
To the black sand at Flying Point, bicycles in the hay;
Lifeguards at their posts, mothers at the shore -
Mayors make a toast to Water Mill Sixty Four.

Convertible Mustang Fords, transister radios -
Toasted almond Good Humor bars, getting caught in the undertow;
Peaches from Peachy Halsey, penny candy from the Penny Candy Store
One mercedes, two mercedes, three mercedes, four.

The fish man on Friday nights, flounder on ice
Cold milk in glass bottles, playing hoops under the lights;
June bugs and praying mantis,
Ice skating the Seven Ponds
Bamboo poles and night crawlers,  frozen carp sounding alarm.

Sledding the high tension wires,  campfires in the snow
Boys duck hunting in handmade blinds, where did they all go?
Black labs in crystal waters, retrieving black ducks
Baymen in their dories, fathers in their trucks.

Bass, blues, weakfish, fluke - flopping on the shore
Gasping for our lives, I pray, need we ignore-
Headlights on the highway, mothers at the shore
Still I hear them coming,
pedals to the floor
One mercedes, two mercedes, three mercedes, four
Say so long and fare-thee-well
old friend, Water Mill
Nineteen Sixty Four.

-bellini