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January 14, 2009
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On a day as cold as this (below 0 F, -30 C with the windchill) I dream of warmer climates, sandy shores and cold Landshark Lager. Oh to be planted in Lake Wales, by the pool with a lunch pack of hot habanero jack cheese and slices of hard salami. I long for tropical redemption.

Give me the beach and a hot footed dance to my towel -anyday, anytime!


BEACHES

The sand

Hotter than

Asphalt in hell

Scorch his feet

To burn

Callused flesh

Like raw burgers

On a grill

Not yet flipped.



He runs

As if

Each step

Is timed

In cadence with

A distant drummer’s

Timpani

Of frantic

Self-expression.



His heart pounds

His feet scurry

As the sound of

Crashing water

Beckons him.

One-tracked mindedness

A single purpose

For his redemption.



Feet splatter

As water sprays

About his legs

To cool

And sooth

The searing

Radiance

Of his solar dance.




He allows

His body

To gently penetrate

The fluidity

Of ecstacy

That now

Imprisons

His vision of perfect

Relief.



His dear wife beckons

For his retreat

And yet before him

The beach

Stretches for

Untold miles

Waiting for yet another

Hot-footed dance to

Purgatory.

 


 

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