SANTA CRUZ, THE WHARF / Gary Brozio When the sand burns white, roller coaster cars of screams blow in an undulating wave of salty heat. Coconut Grove stands a surrealistic flame of colors, a palace of bending glass, languid palms and Tropical Brunch delights; and a thousand sailboats glide like freckles on the red face of the bay. On the railing, a one-legged gull cries for a handout, wings in a sad, pathetic flutter. Beneath, fat seals bark the same, and tiny swells chatter around encrusted pylons. Two or three Oriental men fish amidst a tid of terry shorts and middle-aged women licking cones, their buckets usually empty. Today is no exception. The crowd that murmurs around the party boat's catch of ling cod, snapper, and an occasional halibut falling from burlap sacks seems impressed, and the deckhand's jar grows full green from cleaning fish. Across the way, paper napkin Gilda's is full of people over 60; the crystal water glasses of the Miramar are touched with pink Lancôme lipstick, and now and then the loose board near the fish shop thuds twice. Shrimp cocktails on ice are $2.50, one dollar too high. In the trinket store window seashell chimes jingle, like the sight of so many kite tails in an August sky. The same door is propped open by a box 38 · The Missouri Review of unguarded sand dollars, and I see a young boy steal one. By the rental boats, a piece of gum sticks to an unsuspecting shoe and follows along for a few steps, then the resilience gone. The shoreline cliffs are simply, brown. I look and ask myself if a man discontented here is deluded, or if it's wrong to want the Arcade's constant bump and jingle to turn to thunder? The boardwalk Ferris wheel is caught in a ceaseless turning, two girls embrace and kiss, unconcerned, and the happy screech is a sandy child with her yellow bucket. But the endless blues seem to want the threat of far-off Arizona rumbles, hot bolts to hiss, and people scatter. The heat seems tired of itself, the air gasping for its own breath, and I imagine the effect of thunder showers. Gary Brozio The Missouri Review · 39 ...