A Day at the Beach

Bodies powerfully hewn, clad in black neoprene,
magically conjure imagines of would-be aliens come not
to visit, but to conquer, march with ancestral bearing
to and fro, their surf boards modern shields of armor.

People swimming and wading have drowned
here the sign declares. More related to the sand
the tiny specks of mica, like a zillion silvery
stars forever surrounded by sweet tans, smooth
browns, hard blacks, fragile whites, sober
yellowish-orange grains of sand, I can fend
off lifes ocean of dangers.

Beachcombers parade in fiery reds, pinks, and
limes kicking balls, molding doomed castles,
(chasing wet canines chasing wet tennis
balls) cant perceive how in a handful of sand
is World history more or less.

And the ocean is waiting, the undertow a vice grip,
pulling and pullingits a lighthouse not warning the
living of peril but inviting, enticing, asking us to come
home like t he desperate beckoning tricks
to tongue-in-groove once more on both sides please.

Absorbing the suns heat, tiny grains cradle my feet in
stinging warmth that burnsa bed of lighted matches.
I like it! I stay put, on the beach with my family.

But I still see light off in the distance. The call
of the waves continues to tug and pull me
toward my tomb, a home outside the womb.

Author:: Ramekon O'Arwisters
Keywords:: A Day at the Beach, Balck, Race, World, Worldly
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