Mr. Beach

By Tim Cremin

“Excuse me, sir. Could you watch our boards

while we go out on the jetty to dive off the tower?”

 

“Sure.” Why not? I’m just sitting here

with my book, lacquered in SPF 30.

 

“Go feet first—it’s not high tide yet.”

Listen to me, as if I went feet first

 

when thick-haired, in cut-off jeans,

and claiming no dependents.

 

Look at the two of them:

cocksure as rock stars;

 

head first, of course,

right back up for more;

 

dripping with sunlight,

just fitting into their skin.

 

They remind me of me

before I felt my limits,

 

when I thought there might

not be any.

___

Tim Cremin is a member of the Grey Court Poets, a community poetry group based in Massachusetts, and several of his poems are included in their 2013 anthology, Songs from the Castle’s Remains.  Tim’s poetry has also appeared or is forthcoming in Albatross, Crack the Spine, Poetry Pacific, and Schuylkill Valley Journal.


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