The small creek that parts sand
ebbs toward the sea
it's full of plastic cups
And the insistent wind pushes more and more from careless hands
Children run through it
constantly interrupting it's flow
splashing and kicking
Yet the trash remains on the surface
The windy beach is dizzying
Sun umbrellas tumble in the wind
Is there no shelter
Why must the wind confront us so violently
Children's cries are muffled by tones of the provocative street music
The wind and the waves cannot hush or hide the mess on the sand or in the air
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