beach trip

the strong men

the muscle men

there the sit

down at the beach

cocoa tans

with the weights

scattered about them

untouched

they sit as the

waves go in and

out

they sit as the

stock market

makes and breaks

men and families

the sit while

one punch of a button

could turn their

turkeynecks to

black and shriveled

matchsticks

they sit while

suicides in green rooms

trade it in for more space

they sit while former

Miss Americas

weep before wrinkled

mirrors

they sit

they sit with less

life-flow than apes

and my woman stops and

looks at them:

"oooh oooh oooh," she

says.

I walk off with

my woman as the waves

go in and out.

"there's something wrong

with them," she said, "what

is it?"

"their love only runs in

one direction."

the seagulls whirl and

the sea runs in and out

and we left them

back there

wasting themselves

time

this moment

the seagulls

the sea

the sand.