SUNSTROKE

Sun-worshippers, flipper-flabby, divine wisdom 
from potboilers beneath pitched umbrellas.
 
A motley crew, potbellied, waddle in the wash.
Nothing teeters in their hairy-legged world. 
 
Brazen gulls squawk & scoop scraps, Chips 
Ahoy. A naked baby squeals on a hip.
 
I gawk at the flight of nipple-ballooned bikinis, 
the chase, cacophony & kick-splashes 
 
in the ebb & spray, slump to the clammy sand. 
A breeze scales my teeny bony back, 
 
kickstarts my heart. From my Adam’s apple,
a zest broils, & as I grip the inflatable,
 
clear-plastic ball between my hands, 
I swear it said, “Kiss me, you fool!”