Conch Man

On Muscle Beach we were minding our handles;
we had to walk through the sand in our sandals.
So hot the sun was a four letter word,
then all at once that is when it occurred.

Covered with scales and with algae a-dripping;
many who saw him thought they were just tripping.
He was dark green and eleven feet tall,
and with a head like a dinged volleyball.

Bright yellow eyes in receding eye sockets,
and at his side he had seaweed sewn pockets.
Then to his pocket he reached in a hand,
and pulled out conchs which he threw in the sand!

People ran off but not all in fear showing;
some were enthralled by the conchs he was throwing.
Then one conch landed directly by me;
pulling it near I could then hear the sea.

Right at his knees he had tuna fish tassels;
as he strode he cast his conchs on sand castles.
Deep in his pockets, an endless supply,
leaving his conch shells beneath the blue sky.

Enter the lifeguards from off their high towers,
but they could not deal with the Conch Man’s powers.
He gave the guards an unusual scare,
seemingly pulling conchs right from the air.

Then as he watched all the lifeguards in ebbing,
he raised a right foot to check on his webbing.
And with a foot far exceeding his nose,
sure enough there were some conchs in his toes.

We had not moved from our blanket withstanding;
suddenly there he was, O so commanding.
Standing so tall that he blocked out the sun,
grinning as if he had swallowed a pun.

We looked at him with our heads upward tilted;
steady I stayed but my date almost wilted.
I said, “Here, have a cold Pepsi on me.”
He left two conchs then returned to the sea.

Later a news crew appeared for the wanting;
we both opined that the sea can be daunting.
Then with the western sky turning bright red,
we went inside but we both conked our head.

[SR: 11-11-10-10] (Lines: 40)
A Writer’s Cramp Entry
6-7-12