Pegi Deitz Shea
White boy
automatically
turns driftwood
into AK 47,
aims, holds,
trigger tight,
blankets the beach
of flattened victims
of sunburn
and alcohol
on vacation.
Gun turns to knife.
He carves his name
into the sand,
stabs
the bubbled edge
where waves
retreat in fear.
He prances,
shrieking in glee,
free as the ibis
feasting
on the wrack
left behind
by the storm.