Oceanside Beach, California, Summer 2005

Pink and yellow umbrellas Frost the foggy sand. Surfers in wetsuits Bob like apples In a greenish-gray stew. Sails fatten with wind. Delicious bikinis patrol the strand. The Beach Boys croon from a bungalow. There are two girls for every boy, A woman for every man. Toddlers toy with plastic shovels While margaritas are sipped From cans.  The celebration goes on for miles. The marine layer gets assaulted By the noonish sun— Waves will turn green In less than an hour. When I was younger The beach seemed much warmer. Have you seen my wife? Legs churning north in aqua shorts. Surging foam picks up clumps of kelp, Tumbleweeds them over the sand. Checkered black and yellow flags Whisper currents and tragic undertows. Sun ignites our faces— We’re exposed Like drunks at a bar ready to close.

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