A Day at the Beach:

The breeze is salty and brisk,

though I don't feel it.

The gentle waves levitate me

ever so slightly,

so that I further enter

the water each time.

My body is stiff as a week-old baguette,

immune to the embrace, the caress,

of the air, sand, or sea,

or even the thick colonies of sandflies

breading its entirety.

After several more hours,

by this time the sun sets,

I am completely out to sea,

flies and all,

leaking both liquids and solids

out of my shattered head,

which would soon instigate

a shark infestation at

this crowded public beach.