Flip the records over

Myrna jumped up
her bathing suit
caked with sand
she turned
and wrinkled her nose

He caught the glare of the sun
She leaned over
kissed his head
“You always were so famous, Jack”
and slapped him on the cheek

The elegants paraded down the shore line
in finery and singing songs from 1928
He watched the water through
the spaces between

“I’m lovely, I’m lovely!”
the lovely girl sang
as she danced
un petit cochon
Jack flopped back arms in the sand
to catch her hoof with hand

“You won’t trip me, you magnificent ape”
the laugh tinkled the water
licked by the edge of the sun
her long hair
mindful in its own way
she took flight

He rested in sense
that crept up his body
as a frieze etched itself in his memory
of a slight piece of beauty
on the sharp edge of light

The witnesses turned
as one tossed a bottle
Perhaps they watched
while Myrna made love to the ocean
and Jack felt the size
every inch of the earth

But night will decide
the fate of the day


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