Soft surf Peniscola beach.

Kicking through the gentle surf,

I see Sea; Life and death.

Water of life bitter to taste, killing the tree,

Death is the Sea Shells Sanctuary.

Broken Rocks,

Broken hearts.

Even your name evokes in me;

Peniscola!

Penis, giver of life whether desired or not,

Six percent?

Cola refreshing the parts we dare not mention;

Sagging breasts reminder of the time of your life.

Pert! Young! Sentenced to gravitational rectitude!

Alas…

A lass walks toward me, pointing football studs;

“I dare you to look me in the eye”

I looked.

I did not turn to stone.

The Sea erodes my insouciance,

Dead skin to feed the fishes.

“Who will swim with us this night?”

Darting silver arrows search waves of discontent,

The soporific surf sloughing away my life?

I kissed the wave goodbye.

 

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