Oh, how the sand grits
between my pinkened toes
as I stroll along the breezy shore.
engulfs the gulf where I take a sip
from the Mai Tai in my weathered hands.
out of the sand with the precision
of a sniper in the deserts of Iraq.
waves battering the shore, rejecting
the beer bottles left behind by kids.
dredge fishing away all life
on the fertile sea bottom.
but all I can see in the sky is darkness
saturated with ominous clouds.
this wasteland of tourists and hooligans,
but I can only bring so much booze.