My friend, the Sun how I love and hate you

The sand is dark here 

Sort of the color of a camels butt

Not white or khaki like some beaches

Dense and damp 

With a clay consistency 

There is no one standing around combing the beach of all the dead leaves 

There are spots where the sand is packed down from traffic

Feet sluffing over and over 

The surfers with their thongs made of wet suits and the men with their golden hair, untamed, unbrushed 

All of this lends me more understanding of my husband 

And myself 

--- 

I guess I like that

The sun shifts his weight around 

That throughout the day you have to move your towel a bit if you don't want to come up from the beach the color of a rose petal dipped in lipstick 

The back of my legs have already taken a good slapping from the sun and I was in shade so thank you my Irish heritage 

I wish I could get blasted by Sun

Laying full out naked absorbing every ray 

Because I'm always so bloody cold 

I think this could solve my problem 

Instead I'm hiding from it so I don't spend all of tomorrow in bed

Bruised from the raking of its fingers over and over my thighs 

I wish I could hug the sun but you're probably my thinking like my husband does 

That is just ridiculous