Casa Marina Hotel

Swept by white lace,
sand scatters
across the wooden floor
as a bride dances her first dance
under a new name.

Waves crash on the beach,
each one making
time unsure of itself.
Memories and futures
weave with the present
and ripple across
aged stucco walls.

Soon the courtyard
is hosting wedding guests
and ghosts.
Al Capone’s smoky laughter
twists through history
choking bridesmaids
and chasing the bride
to the window for air.

She stares at the boardwalk
her heart pounding,
doubt swelling in her blood.
Panicked,
she spins recklessly
in the cigar smoke
and screams
but the sounds slip out
in slow motion.
She watches it ripple
through the window
into the ears of a couple
holding hands near the dunes.
Slowly they turn
and wave.

She falls back
from the future
into the arms of her lover
and is swept away
by passion.

(Later she will remember
the older woman
near the dunes
wore her ring

and her smile.)