Summer Afternoon

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
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.

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