beach days

heat, delirium

a serum of introspective thought

and a cripple on the sand

crushing images in her hands

extracts the vigor and valor

of an open ocean scene.

beached body parts

in the words of Descartes

are a minor fracture

in the totality of a sea breeze.

so she manufactures

misplaced time and

intangible essence

bringing a solitude best made

by a beach load of loafers.

spitting sand and

spreading across the horizon

like the lips of a sinner

or the legs of a saint

these beach days

watched from between the barrels

of thick sunglasses.

she's on this side of the gun

powder is smoke in a gypsy bar

an incense of fucking essence

sea men everywhere

she sees women

in bright bits of clothing

covering nudy pink bits

delicious like bonbons

glistening in the sun.

beach daze

a Monet of plump, red berries

beer bellies bumping in the heat wave

and slim sips of serpentine spines

as old bones dry in the sun.

the ocean hums knowingly beside squealing children

and gawking eyes

loud with a hunger for nature.

and a cripple crumpled on the sand

like a stubbed out cigarette

is hunched over a notebook

drawing a new version of Family Circus

where everyone is a half-dressed carny

with fun mirror faces

and a dot-dot-dot line that pulls them

around and around each other

a manic kind of merry-g0-round

in her mind.

she laughs out loud and the waves

eat her sound.