On Brighton Beach
The sun scattered
Over twelve luscious legs,
Our outstretched toes
Massaging the pebbles
That we then struggle
To throw into that crinkled cup.
The bleach-blonde hair,
Tattoos of rock and pomegranate
The yellow shorts match
The hanging flower earrings
A thong, bikini
And a pair of trunks
Our bodies temples to our attitudes
We need a break
And we get it.
The dog sleeps, rolls around
And wags his tail;
The sun spectacular,
And where it glimmers most,
As always, you