samba by poolside loungers
the smell of suntan lotion
will always transport me
elsewhere

the cushiony sand by sea
gives soles something to chew on
spirits shined by fine grit
wash away

when i was a kite i flew lower
than now for these are times
to soar beyond
gravity’s push

i look down at tanned bodies
arrayed in trunks and tops
melted crayon colors strewn
sans symmetry on the sand

a girl in fluorescent bikini
dances under ear buds, sips a pony
and considers where in the world
someone like me might be

chagall 2018

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