The Thing

When all was quiet on the promenade,

‘cept for the sea,

I gazed a dark thing down on the beach,

Stranded like a road side tire,

Its rubber shell broiling in the heat.

 

Suddenly charged by the midday sun,

A foot, a claw grinded into gear,

Dragged, contorted and pulling away.

Then a lizard tail hatched from the sand

Winding like an S towards a boulder maze.

 

Here, the water thundered,

Jetting sulphurous spray 50 feet up

And spitting sea foam through the rocky mesh.

 

The thing never looked back,

Only motored into the assault

And silently slipped from rock to wave.

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