Missing My Metaphor

her joints, creaking plank wood, nails, shellacked, splintered, dark long hair, sargasso sickly sweetened blue crab scuttled, lips both brown foam'd, in tidal moaning, her boardwalk secrets fallen, on her beach head, sand dollars, insteps ebb, sand bars exposed, while gulls cry for clamshells neap'd, my bucket never full, those swelling littorals, leave me only salt streak'd in cold board shorts, and rough glass foot cuts, rip current-ed, again.