Miles of broken, sunbaked seashells,
resembling pieces of porcelain of lesser value,
lying across a populous beach subdued by misty blue,
as hungry sea-gulls pounce the fiddler crabs..
The beach entertainer draws huge crowds;
singing funny songs and making comic skits
by spicing up his unique modus operandi,
and modestly mocking his modus vivendi...
He has never made lots of money,
but settles for dollar bills to earn their sympathy;
dressed in tight and colorful ministrel's attire,
he amuses the public with his monkey-shine...
And he pulls out his fiddler and the crowds go wild,
awakening, by its high-pitched sound, a dope fiend,
who has built a shack in this unsafe place always threatened by the blowing sand;
He puts on his dirty sunglasses and disappears in the groovy sunshine...
The beach entertainer follows him, leaving everyone behind,
saying," Sorry, brother...I didn't mean to wake you up, the bum turns around with sad eyes
and exclaims, " Music doesn't fill an empty and aching belly...and cheer up a feeble mind! "
" Here's all I got...take it and get something to eat!" The beach entertainer whispers.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci