On a sweltering day at the seaside, the poem moves its eye along a boardwalk, picking out small, unglamorous details: old men without their hats, a heavy woman sweating in the wind, the smell of hotdogs and warm beer. The old men dream of a city that was once theirs, but by the end they have forgotten even that. The city, we're told, "broke them out of it," so their memory seems to hold loss as much as pride. They end up asleep and "dreamless."
The speaker mostly observes rather than comments, which gives the scene a flat, drowsy feel. Still, a few images stand out. A kid fiddles with a toy on a string while watching a girl's thighs "open as softly / as a clam mined by the sun," a line that is sensual and slightly uneasy. Youth is awake with desire; age has gone quiet. Storms flicker offshore, but the heat doesn't break. The mood is sticky, lazy, and a little melancholy, as if time has stalled.