Ode to the Lost Motels of the Jersey Shore

Exploring Seaside Heights, N.J., for the first time, and, sadly, I find no treasure-trove of midcentury motels like there are in Wildwood. Here, as testament, is an image of a Jeffrey L. Neumann painting of the Seashell Motel in Wildwood and my poem on the same subject (total coincidence, but not surprising, since Jeffrey and I cover the same beat: lost America).

 

“Sea Shell,” a painting by Jeffrey Neumann

CHECKOUT AT THE SEA SHELL MOTEL

the caramel room

at the Sea Shell Motel

dollar store palm prints

and nicotine sills

cheap rum hangs in the shaft of sun dust

hula lamps hold the afternoon

dealings have come and gone —

Greek families, pimps, divorcees,

schmuck runaways, suicide watches

music plays no more

only murmurings and distant trucks

the scent of the bulldozer

Filed under: art, essays, fiction, lifestyle, literature, painting, poetry, travel, Uncategorized, writing Tagged: allen shadow, Americana, art, Jeffrey L. Neumann, painting, poetry, writing