211. Beach Day

Choppy the waves that crown the sea,
Black the beach our eyes can’t see –
Iron umbrella strapped to my back
With spread to beat back the burn of flack
That sprays like sunrays, or foam at the knees
Tripping up our boys wading in, floating free,
And those primed to hop out the LCVP
To seize spots for basking and advance the attack.
“We’ll start the war from right here!”
Shouts our chief among the debris
Of waterlogged sandals and detainees
So we pump ever faster, to triple our tracks,
Cover that beach with swissed Union sacks,
And so, to make sure fun in the sun the future guarantees,
“We’ll start the war from right here!”