Bixby Park Tunnel

When I was a boy,   

Nearly seven decades ago, 

I walked two miles 
To the beach 

All by myself. 

I walked down 

Junipero Avenue. 

I rolled my eyes 

Knowing how the locals 

Mispronounce it as 

One a pair oh. 

I’d cross Anaheim Street

And read the Cabart Theater Marquee

Looking for a pair of movies
I’d like to see.

I continued on
Passing by the California Bungalow houses

On my Independent Press Telegram

Paper route.
I’d watched the cars whizzing by

As I’d wait for the light on 7^th Street.

I’d pass Doctor Logan Jackon’s house,

Glad that I didn’t need to get a shot.

I crossed Broadway 

To the Park Pantry restaurant,

And hoped that someday 

I could afford to eat there.

I'd stroll through Bixby Park 

Scanning, Searching, and hunting  

For any friends who might 

Want to play at the beach. 

When there were, 

And when there weren't, 

I'd cross the park 

From one corner 

To the corner 

Of Cherry and Ocean.  

I'd descend the stairs 

Into the Bixby Park tunnel 

That went under  

Ocean Boulevard 

To the beach.  
I always found friends
Some I knew
Some I’d just met.
We'd play at the shore
And play tag with the waves.
Some kids had skim boards

Some had floats.
We’d play all day.

When we got hungry
We pull out the bologna sandwich

That we’d made at home.
Our teeth crunched the sand  

That the wind always,

Always, always blew

Onto our sandwiches.
When it was time to go home
I'd go into the tunnel
And back through the park.
I needed to be home
Well before it got dark.

I am sad 

That the tunnel 

Is no more.  

I suppose 

When children of ten 

Were no longer allowed 

To walk to the beach 

All by themselves, 

They sealed the tunnel, 

And the memories 

And only left a mural  

At the ocean side  

Of the tunnel.