a whim of the past

salty brine sunset whale
rocky oyster beige black snail
peat moss clamors clam
beach grass cling wet seaweed sand
ruby red reed rhubarb fire
rustic piling blacken perspire
indigo launch takes off for the ladies and gents
having lunch at the yacht club dock
of Harry Belafonte fame
where Gleason bought rounds
boats hand crafted out of mahogany
brass cutlery fine cut crystal goblet compliment chilled Vichy water
big brass band a seaman whistle
a party boat flag fish net drag
a giant black canvas bag of crab
ready to dip into remalarde sauce with a twist
a days bounty licked are the spoons from
the heavenly catch where the room is
round as the moon-every waiter serves every
mood, the women exit the pool checking
their lipstick dab powder & perfume-
a tinkle of glass all be seated as Steak Diane and broiled lobster
smothered in breadcrumbs and drawn butter parade nearby arranged on
Dom Perignon crackle cracked ice the frosted flute
pop the corks cold brute
fill glasses to the brim
wined and dined where Long Island duckling swim
repast for the gentlemen and their dames
rich chocolate moose like candy
5 courses a napoleon brandy
luxury a whim of the past
the moon too full to wane-
next year Barcelona, Spain.