Steamy, hot, and thickly humid,
The ocean dispatched its savory scent
To lure us forward.
Uncertainly, we followed.

Setting out an unfamiliar quartet,
Of mismatched notes and bellows,
As unharmonious as
Rusted steel against glass.

Lugging beach chairs,
Umbrellas, and discontent
That he who binds us
Chose not to accompany us.

Gratingly,
we trudged against the burning sand,
As well as each other,
Selecting a “spot.”

With pinching, sandy shorts, salted lips,
And exclamations of misery,
Suddenly, it came to me
In the form of a dried, crusty crab.

“I’m building a castle,” I announced.
My three charges looked apprehensively,
One to the other,
Before searching, excitedly for adornments.

Each scrambled,
Scouring the beach near and far,
To contribute to the Masterpiece
Symbolizing a truce, a unity.

Ours was never meant to be calm,
Too much sugar, salt, and dead fish
To create a smoothie, yet
Stormy- we settled for a stormy union.

Made of gale winds,
Fluctuating temperatures,
Carping and fluking,
Tart as lemons.

Its beginning a crusty ole crab,
Encased in sand,
Decisively placed atop the magnificent,
King Crab Castle.

9 thoughts on “Sugar, Salt & Dead Fish”

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