In later December 2004 columnist Gordon Dillow, of the OC Register, wrote a column deploring the refuse that turns up on our local beaches after a rainstorm sends it all down through the sewers, and concrete rivers, to the ocean.
It was called "Sore about what rain brings."
His lengthy catalogue of what he found was as fascinating, as it was disgusting.
As I read the piece I felt that there was poetry, there, if I put some thought into it.
And so there was.
I sent it to the Letters page, and to Mr. Dillow, in early January 2005.
Mr. Dillow sent a kind reply, but the paper never published the poem. ;-D
these tourists from inland, it's their top destination.
Gordon Dillow, citizen, counting them by the pound,
catalogued their names, and declared an infestation.
a shopping cart, noodles, hangers, and a bowling pin.
Cushions, purses, shoes, stuff disgusting to the eye;
Smile, God loves you! Our numbers, oh isn't it a sin?
High heeled shoes, flip flops, and cans of fix-a-flat.
One after the other, rain or shine, come one, come all!
Plastic bottles, and noxious butts, are all old hat.
all come down, each year, to mingle with the Grunion.
Plates, and bowls of plastic, they happily call home,
as pork craklins dance with salsa in cups of styrofoam.
and Wet Ones Towlettes caress the eager metal chest,
the candy wrappers gather under a fire extinguisher,
hiding from this debauchery they do their very best.
Miller, Bud, and Smirnoff, juiced from coke and beer,
look about the sand, and sigh, the end quite apparent,
as, from down the beach, Public Works draws near.
Mr. Dillow wrote:Thanks for the copy of the letter to the editor, and for the poem. Don't know if they'll use it -- that's another department -- but I certainly enjoyed it!