Chrissie's Last Swim

In the twilight glow of drinking Racing gaily over dunes Stripping down, a natural beauty Bouncing curves shaped by the moon “What’s your name, again?” He questions “Chrissie,” she calls, rather stunning He asks, concerned, “Where are we going?” “Swimming!” she then answers, running And so he chases her, enchanted Awkwardly pulling at his clothes Into the ocean, bare, she splashes But to the edge is all he goes Swimming out, she flaunts her leg Laughing, he can’t get undressed She calls him, one last time, to join her He drunkenly falls down and rests And so, without him, toward a buoy On the sparkling ocean shimmer As an ancient, lurking danger Hunts the silhouetted swimmer Then treading lightly in the darkness Smiling, looks back for her boy Who is not swimming out to meet her Despite her offered naked joy Then comes a sharpness to her ankle, By dangling feet it pulls her under “Oh, God!” she cries, in surfacing Screaming, “Help me!” far asunder But, no one hears her desperate pleas As it drags her, to and fro Briefly gripping the floatation She’s grabbed again, then pulled below