Everything sparkled. Blasting sun struck
The jittering surfaces of the sea – the
Combing and brushing breakers,
The sides and structures of pleasure craft
In chop, the wet skin of joggers,
The blowing blond and brown hair
Of these girls and their smiling teeth,
Their splashing hands at play
In the surf. “Take a picture of us?”

Two strangers, so cute,
So joyful in their vampy pose.
They got their picture together,
But there’s another one:
The constant predation of seabirds,
The insidious work of ubiquitous brine,
The scent and evidence of death,
Of course, though hidden in the show,
Like pictures forgotten
In a flashy cell phone,
Like a mind that doesn’t
Know it’s there, like history
And learning buried in books.

Don’t misunderstand – these were
Sweet girls having fun. They Just
didn’t know who was viewing them
in their post-modern moment, or what
they were going to become.