and here we are
with the first bursts of air,
thick with salt
and sour,
an oceanic herald
beckoning the plush and sun-starved.
it looks to mist upon bare
freckled breasts,
buoyant and playful,
cradled in colored spandex,
catching the looks of old men
as our slender fingers slather
sticky and pearly white,
so they don't burn or peel
but bake under a golden eye,
unwinking and warm.