OK then, so sue me, you aren’t going to teach,
Me to like lying for hours on an overpacked beach.
I do not like how the sand sandpapers my toes,
Or how it gets into my swimsuit or clothes.
Don’t enjoy lying for hours on a hot stretch of sand,
Trying to balance my book in one hand.
If I paddle on the seashore in the gentlest of spray,
I hate how sand sticks to my toes after, like half-proving clay.
I won’t swim out far, even if there’s a reef,
In case there are creatures lurking underneath.
Won’t lie for hours under a scorching sun,
My bod gets all sweaty, my mascara has run.
I don’t want to lie here getting frazzled like teak,
I’d rather just beachcomb with an air of mystique.
I’d much rather mess happily in a shallow rock pool,
Where I can lazily lounge, staying reasonably cool.
I’ll stroll down the coast path, take a long walk,
Admire the vista, take a friend and just talk.
I’ll fish for my supper, dig up a mussel or two,
Oh darn it, why bother? I’ll order a hot vindaloo.