Summer Afternoon Lying against the sand endlessly active eyes peer out from my water-filled, resting head. “All men are created equal,” he’d said. “All people are created equally,” I’d corrected him aware that the slight was unnecessary. Through the grass and burning, sun-baked body the short, chubby legs of an inquisitive two year old appear a wet Irish Setter attracts her Chinese eyes. “It’s human nature to be dissatisfied,” he’d said. “People always seek to satisfy greater sets of needs,” he’d said. “Think of the Maslovian hierarchy,” he’d said. Turning eyes down an oversized, purple derriere smiles to me adjusting a stone-filled sandal. My head rolls to the other side of the beach. Plump black stems fold into a contrastingly white baggy diaper and laughs as funny Daddy’s glasses slide down her pebble nose. “No. Social inequalities require dissatisfaction,” I’d said. “The hungry don’t know about Maslow,” I’d said. Thin yellow thighs relieve the child of the inquisitive nose of the Setter. A strong wind blows over the beach and everybody shudders.