Summer on the Coast.

'Twas summer,

and soon I was but a flinching vessel, a circulating vas-
gazing at the ocean, the ebb, the infinite azure mass.
On the shore, the scenic coast-
I chased the tide, I made a toast.

Coteries, please raise your glasses now...
To years past,
To stained glass!
To the whirling globe,
To space probes!
To boiling noodles,
To ostentatious poodles!


And yes, I may have been enamored! I may have mewled and clamored!
And summer's blush did, indeed, stain my skin!
But now tell me, was I no better than a babbling fall? Than a crumbling city fulminated by sin in a lowly pity? I fear turning round and becoming nothing more than a salty pillar.