The concrete pathway has breaches
We swerve, on our bikes, into
the rutted grass.
We reach Avenue X and the light is
red—no cars. We should risk it, and
we do. A woman tosses a veil
with sequins, someone reads
an actual newspaper, and an elderly man
sets up chess. In the next few blocks,
the trees grow dense, the concrete is
smooth. A group of boys whiz by
in their Sabbath black, their helmet
straps loose. A couple jogs
to the beach—it’s a long way from
here. One cyclist plays music—
a fleeting rhythm as we ride
past Avenue P, Avenue M, Beverly Road.
All along the parkway we catch
glimpses of foyer chandeliers. Aids
and their charges sit on benches in the
bike path shade. The passage of
pedestrians on the right; the movement of cyclists
and runners on the left. Families walking to temple
crossing the great divide. Headed
home, headed to the beach, headed to
the City, headed to God.
Sarah Beck is a freelance writer in South Brooklyn–mothering, teaching, advising, and having adventures between the Manhattan skyline and the Atlantic Ocean.
The Champs/Elysees has nothing on Ocean Pkwy on Shabbat