On The Beach

I walk barefoot in the wet sand
Dreaming of your slobbering kisses
Mixed with imitation pancake syrup
And the color of your hair like fried bacon
Not overdone,
Your skin is dun, not done,
And I stub my big right toe
And curse like the very dickens
And learn to dance without taking
Lessons…and the mermaids laugh,
But they soon sing another tune
As I lambaste them with fist-sized flat
Beach stones, peppering them as
Their screams frighten the early morning
Gulls in their roosts. The fairies toss
Nasty turds at me, their own I believe,
But they too will be whistling another tune
Once I get back to the beach house and grab
My shot gun! Those tiny freaks will be
Screaming louder than those pesky, fish eating
Mermaids, I’ll warrant you !!
I sit on the sand and grab my now swollen
Big digit, as a handful of stunted tiny elves
Laugh uproariously at me from a large boulder.
I curse them mightily as they make obscene gestures
At me, many of which I have never seen before,
They too, the rascals, toss odiferous chunks of
Their own feces at me, with unerring accuracy
Considering the distance, flinging their disgusting
Scat with an amazing élan and gusto.
I’ll set more rat traps for them tonight, and
Then we’ll see who has the last hardy har har, eh?