both of which are indications that
Summer, however foggy it may be
in this tiny beach town, is upon us.
The tourists, in their brightly colored
shorts and aggressive t-shirts
advertising everything they own
and everywhere they’ve been,
descend to the kelp-strewn beach
and set up their tents, their umbrellas,
and their coolers filled with light beer
and candy flavored malt liquor. The
locals grumblingly take the tourists’
money. It is a grudging annual
symbiosis, but the apricots are
delicious, and my suede loafers are
safe from the flip flop wearing hoards.