Deep Dive Jive

Divin' Deep down there's guttural gurgles and burbles Jivin' in the respirator. I dive deeper, still deeper than I've ever been before. The seabed is littered with littoral lie-there's just layin' about, praying to be picked up by some swim-on-buy kid like me. It's a jalopy junk yard down there. Old shells long discarded by hermit crabs looking for joyrides in new digs and sporty convertible squats in RV's. Shells discarded are great do-uppers for crabs putting on weight. No one is homeless down here, for all shells discarded, are reborn to after-lives decreed indeed by need in Davy Jones' Locker.