Beach Town

A reflection of a beach town from the point of view of a resident.

Beaches canvassed with baking humans,
The aroma of coconut swallows the
Stench of decay and death.

She told me once that she took
War and Peace to the beach.
I don’t know what to say to this-
So I say nothing at all

The tourists are all complaining
Of hangovers today as I mix
Their bloody marys-
The same color as their rotting skin

She holds a clamshell and talks
About Botticelli to an old pale man
Who listens while eyeing the ball- game,
Disinterested in either Botticelli or the Braves-
Maybe both?


The tourists are now drunk-
Dancing to old music that nobody
Listens to anymore-
They are clumsy and red faced
Dancing in a circle like children
At play, unable to control their budding limbs.


In the evening we sit on the deck
And listen to Van Morrison-
Her head on my lap, not saying a word,
While we gaze longingly at the full, full moon.