Cement Ship

 

 

                Get it right—it’s concrete,

                as local historian Sandy Lydon

                        would insist.

 

 

We have a curious thing that sits offshore here—

They call it the Cement Ship, but, to be accurate about it,

it’s made of concrete, and, as is apparent, is nowhere near

        the ship she once was—

Built for cargo service back in World War I,

she never saw war, in fact, she never far sailed anywhere.

Towed down the coast—years later from Oakland—,

positioned off Seacliff Beach, partially sunk in shallow surf,

her bow facing forever south, a pier to her was constructed,

and the S.S. Palo Alto was opened to the public in 1930

        as an amusement ship.

Of the two human pastimes, to party is absolutely preferable.

 

And for two seasons thousands came to the ship

to dance in the elegant Rainbow Ballroom,

to wine & dine in a classy saloon, and carry on among

the carnival concessions; under the main deck was a heated

        swimming pool.

Like an ephemeral splendor, her party life was short;

        the company went bankrupt;

and the Palo Alto wound up being bought by the state

        for a mere dollar,

and over time became a tourist curiosity & popular fishing pier.

From near & from far the Cement Ship is a legend;

and thousands of beach-goers come & wonder of her,

and through yearly winter storms—most destructive

        in ‘83—,

she has suffered an ongoing ravagement.

 

                                                                                    Today,

I walk out to the ship, it is a first of August beauty—

To both left & right, the long beach is packed;

there’re plenty of people fishing up & down the broad pier

and onto what is still accessible of the deck,

though sections of it are jagged holes, fenced off,

        and from about mid-ship to fore is off limits.

Look through the metal barricade mesh, you see the bow

separated, the hull battered, its concrete pocked & ocean eaten,

entire fore-and-aft continuously awash in salt green wave;

and long bundles of iron rebar you see exposed, rusted, bent

        & twisted,

a tangled mass in one place like kelp stipes balled up on shore.

Trapped seawater sloshes around the gaping center of the hull.

 

That half of the ship has been relinquished—

Today populated by pelicans, gulls & cormorants

you find perched on every surface & post, all preening

        so leisurely in the Sun,

and by harbor seals, sea otters, anemones, barnacles, sea stars,

crabs & mussels & all the numerous fish you would find

        flashing below.

 

The Palo Alto & the sea are locked in a sort of long tango—

In some private moment of the day, but especially the night,

you would hear surf make soulful music in her hollows.

        It is a long ravagement.

And Nature’s primary invincible element will eventually

        claim all.

 

 

 

 

 

Seacliff State Beach

August 1998