Metallic ocean waves
will not devour me,
this prevailing moment invincible.
Shaven-headed dude,
his raven hound gallivanting
across the uneven plaza,
eagerly visualizing
some vague triumph,
shit teetering on the verge.
Beneath this devil sun,
vociferous men,
devoid of socks,
converse sharply
about investments
in rental ventures,
their glances evasive,
ignoring my overly-long
verdant straw—
properly delivering
this shivery salvation:
iced beverage, victorious.
— ©2018 Rick Baldwin
