ON THE TRAIN TO ATLANTIC CITY

AUGUST 1945

The war, my mother told me,
was over. I was five, almost six,
and girls were singing
mona lisa mona lisa men have
named you and laughing
and promising each other that
they would grab themselves
any good-looking soldier who
walked by them when they got
to the beach. I was looking
forward to building a sand
castle and wondering what it
would be like to jump into the waves
and if going to school would
be as much fun as my mother
had promised it would be.