Waves pound the shore with sputtering froth.
Young children terrified of crushing waves
are quite content with sifting malleable sand.
Old men lounge in sunlight like lizards.
Breast-less young girls in pink bikinis
squeal in the roiling surf.
Lifeguard drives a four-wheeler buggy
like he’s CEO of the sand.
Plump middle-aged women sport
fading tattoos of their frolicking youth.
Umbrellas sprout like mushrooms after rain.
Lost plastic shovels and goggles sleep under sand.
Seals wonder if humans are safer than sharks.
Broken shells know they are not.
High tide red flags whimsically wave
while beach sand swallows the salty source of life.
The ghost of Marconi’s marvelous machine
still lingers in humid moonlight air,
but there is not a solitary soul there
to hear what he had wrought.