Sans les Mains

I was trying to relax with my mistress
in a little beach front the cheapest dig
but it was a shared rent beat suite not
locked off to suit due to ratty chewed
french and rounded angle hinged fault
when the little runts parent worshiped
intruded as we wanted to grope alone.

Offered ribs a skinny premonition but is
that really the perfect answer to the glory
of sharp surf cuts on blue waves against
a mossy row of suburban garage doors
when an eave buckles over apple floors?

I found a piece of aqua seaglass that
was sanded near to smooth wash before
a tidal rumor came upon our demiurge.