POETRY – {Beach Blanket}

Not so much sex on the beach as second

base on a sandy blanket,

wet towel

barely concealing the rhythmic movements

of her hand on his manhood roughly ten

feet from where I’m tanning,

reading,

eating,

a peanut butter sandwich.

The girl on

her back,

straps undone,

t-shirt over her

face to protect it from the sun;

the guy,

much older,

pretending to massage her

shoulders,

leaning over her,

constantly

checking if the white-haired gentleman to

our left setting out his chair has any

clue what’s going on there,

never looking

at me,

or maybe knowing I don’t care.