At The Beach

A hit of acid. Wearing rubber boots. Standing in water up to our chins. Laughing our disembodied heads bobbing up and down like buoys in a motor boats wake. Our voices in helicopter laments. Stuck in 1972. Tripping. I wonder why they call it blotter acid. keep coming to the beach ever since to lay in the sun and listen. To the patter of angels. You can call me William Shakespeare.A young man goes down to the beach. To do some hallucinogenic drugs. He feels that the beach is the perfect cover for him. People laying around doing nothing. And it becomes a habit. Over the years he returns to the beach, listening to the chatter of the ordinary life. And goes over some of the events of his own life. And then he dies.