January 24, 2018

He rakes the sand

with thick wooden rake

wearing sweat stained clothes

and sandpapered jackets

that defy the sun.


His dark eyes disappear

unnoticed under the shadow of hat.

No smile but always “hola”

while tourists move in their

self-absorbed bubbles


Hours slide like the slow

heavy drops of sweat

that sting his eyes

as he carves, sculpts

sifts out debris,

swirls grains



The hollowed shell

of his body bent over

in a slow crawl

tongue touching

tequila and lime

crusted lips.


With circular sweeps

he enshrines the sand.

moving steadily outward

arching spirals

toward the sea.


Drawn towards

concentric mounds

I see shells centrally

placed offered

with sanctimony.

I witness this consecration.


He moves on

heat waves distort

his figure

arms and legs become unhinged


and dissolves into the sea.


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