The Beach

The Beach


She rolled
and her body
turned as a bovine
mount on a spit.

Grains of sand
powdered in patches
across that wall of a back.
The sun cooked
and the sand fleas
jumped in her ears.

She slept
oblivious as most.
Casual wind
lifted only the driest
of hair.

Young girls
buried a friend
left her head
just this side of sand.
They ran
to the water
Sand pipers stopped
and spied.

A young guy
ran a hand
between his girl’s legs
the sun made her
push
with her hips
to his palm.

Baldy shoved
a wallet
in the sneaker
by his head.
Then took to the water
once his
cash was in the safe.

The royals
smoked cigars
in shadows of cabanas
and rum
sat in glasses
wrapped with
fingers of the famous.

Breasts heaved
and teased
so many eyes
behind lenses
framed by faces
that watched.

Mothers worked hard
feeding babies
sandy food
dabbing noses
with defense
and making sure
their breasts
fell fair.

Men’s bellies
gave in
and fell
over trunks that
used to fit.
They all remembered
flirting
and how good girls
can taste.

And the lithe
of the beach
kept the sight of all the eyes.
The birds
fought for scraps
by the bodies
at the beach.

GJH 2003