Tangerine sherbert melting down my pinky,
Seashore,
straw hat, striped canvas.
Smiling patrons from afar,
sipping side cars from a jar.
In the corner of a bar
sings a bard,
of the lion men of yore,
we clap and yell encore,
And the waiter stops to watch,
Jolted by a ring,
An order of fish slides from the kitchen,
For a man striking his match,
Lighting a sausage like cigar.
A polite brunette reminds him,
“no fumar”
