The coffee isn’t even bitter,
for milk and honey drown it out.
The beach is pure; no sign of litter
from those who choose to go without.
Instead it’s laughter, pampered plastic
that’s handed down from something drastic.
I shrug and sigh with this all near,
for I find little adverse here.
In futile desperate vexation
I raise my black hand to the skies
with yearning heaven in my eyes,
but this yields no true consolation
and so I turn my back away
and bring the darkness of the day.


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