He walked down the beach
Nothing but cool.
Who wears a straw hat,
No shirt,
Shoulders pulled back,
Ribs still showing
At seventy something.
He had a strut,
The kind of confidence,
The kind that said,
“I’m not a person to be trifled with.”
His face was a smile,
The kind that is more eff you
Than I’m happy,
But he could pull it off
Because his aura was just the cool.

I thought gangster or cop.
He could have been walking a beat,
But he had too much glide in his stride,
Had he been a cop,
He would have been more burly,
More confrontation,
More begging for something to happen.
This old guy looked as if he had been looking
For his whole life,
He barely moved his head and saw everything
Then I noticed his hands,
The left looked as if it had been tucked in a pocket,
Fingers only on the inside, thumb out,
A sign his cronies would have known.
His right hand was cocked, looking like a gun,
Thumb as the hammer, index finger the barrel,
Middle finger keeping time with his stride
Tapping an imaginary trigger, ready to apply some heat.

He just smiled as he walked.
Taking in all in.
Cool as could be.
Hell, he was probably a teacher or something.

The sun rose soft and inviting,
Twenty minutes later it was kicking ass,
Bright and surgical.
Two hours later it had me begging for mercy
And only hanging onto the beach
Because the family was there and
We set up a big as eff canopy.

Drained energy.

This was after a ride and a run,
During a very short swim,
Before a twenty minute walk to lift weights
And enjoy a lemon water ice.
All combined
The sun put a number
On my weak butt.

Drained energy.

But tomorrow, I’m back at it,
Earlier in the day if I must.
It’s challenge month and I’ve got
Nose breathing only
During a run in store for me.
Later I’ll ride and lift,
Hopefully no canopy…

That’s the real energy drainer.

I just left the beach where I experienced a margarita (or more) induced nap and I’m sitting on the couch after a cold shower and I can feel the heat of the day leaving my body. A Vornado fan that has served me well for over a year is doing its best to copy the changing winds from the shore. Dessert came first, tonight, a hunk of Rocky Road fudge with LA Women, the whole album blasting through headphones. I’ve got my head back wishing for a dark, dirty honky tonk to put them down and end this perfect day.


Muddy bay side smells
Tide out, a full moon morning
Gentle winds lifting


Photo Credit: By Staib [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)%5D, from Wikimedia Commons