| The ocean breaks and crickets chirp, but the barfolk chatter amongst themselves, American country-rock keeping time to the winds. A frog with pillowy flesh rests under the bamboo chair. A crab exploring hinter runs from a tourist, and the salt that is all around I fear is in me too. Mustn't the world must have an edge? Couldn't this be it? Lightning flashes thru the ocean fog. Fishing boats have their lights on. |