"We shall not all be like that," she
whispered within the furnished apartment
of her mind. The ocean-tides of thought
surged towards the bright September moon,
to the tune of "Everything is Over Now."
She swooned. The gentlemen were in their
committee meeting. They were speaking
tall tales. She held a plastic shovel and
sand pail beside the raging sea. She tasted,
but could not feel, the salt-laced winds.
