Beach of Fish

Shade girl,
I seen you walkin'
in the night.
Doin' your bad thing.
Your all black clothes and cigarettes,
all Pot and Acid,
all sex and no babies,
not yet shade girl.
Sittin' there on the rank beach.
Say your parents don't care.
All you do is sit and wait,
Wait for the tuna man to come,
I seen the tuna man.
He come with the tide and take you,
take you to the machine to labor
and make more of your own kind,
livin' in some slum somewhere.
Don't be fooled by the tuna man's rotten coconuts,
drugs don't count as love.
You'll be just another generic fish workin' the machine.
With numb fingers and starving children.
Sex and Drugs and Rock n' Roll
I seen you smile. (so hard and fake.)
I seen your hair. (shines like you wish you did.)
It's either make up or minimal hygiene,
I don't care if it's oxy clean.
Music is a strange thing.
Truth is,
dead fish don't sing.

by Z. O., Portland, ME