Mussel Rock 1/11/09

A trip to Mussel Rock Park today. An old dump by the sea came as a surprise to me. A morose plane warranted my suspicions while overlooking it atop a cliff: a flat plane, blanketed by cliffs and jutting into the sea. I followed an asphalt road to the open space, hesitating to a blunt wrongness. I stood to soak in the stillness, bathing in curiosity- even the sea was silent. 200 meters of dunes rose to sandstone peaks layered in coastal grass, exposing outcrops of bedded layers, the years-a-thousand. A cliff smoothed with serpentine sheen proved synthetic upon closer evaluation, desperately fighting slumping slopes from the order of a threatened duplex. It was at my feet a black plastic revealed the antiquated rife. Around me rotten tires, rusted metal and plastic boots shared their secrets and their sadness, sitting solemnly in rejection. I pissed in an old tire. Toxic rivers flowed into the crashing waves next to the fishermen soaking in the spray. With my departure the families with the dogs arrived, running in the toxic waste with hedonistic smilies on their face. I passed them with haste for my own sanity. At the exit, a tin barrel labeled "contents pending analysis" sat next to the parking lot. What now? What can I do? Next to me a car shakes as two lovers fuck. The squeaking of axles rubbing metal against metal drown out the wind and the waves, and leave me with my stolen purity.