Hey, you and I, we


Hey, you and I, we

ought to go to the beach

for the forecast

say partly sunny skies

as opposed to these awful

so-called isolated storms

of thunder

and clouds with a

certain ominous majesty;

the kind that would belong

quite flawlessly in some

great Michelangelo

painting, or sculpture

of the air,

a coalescence of moisture

saturated and dark

about the belly,

a harbinger of

the ultimate buzzkill:

weather preventative of a

sweet day at the beach.