the cape at the end of the peninsula at the end of the blah

we scraped our way onto skull beach
hermits parrying
crab's pincers pincing
tumbling headlong
into the muck, the mire, the dire consequences
falling into the black salty mud!
fuck you! I speak spanish
hablamos espanol
con la cerveza y el sol
we read what is forbidden in the dunes
we take a picture of the sign
this is our signal
we take pictures of the dunes and how we got there
we take pictures of the sky and we under it
we take pictures of the shells and the road and the brine
blurry pine rows racing past the car window
we take pictures of spirits ascending
people who lived in Florida before air conditioning
crusty sun baked maniacs who lived there
because they followed their inner crickets
because nobody else could stand it

it was a day
we fought
it was a day
we won

it was a day
full of seconds
stretched around firsts

by the crusty boy poets