Perhaps to dream at the ocean

I think it was the ocean – brilliant waters
softly breaking
me loose from my dull reality –
that spared a glimpse, or at least
a brief broken specter into
the dancing fancies of scrambling crabs
scuttling sideways for
an admiring female with discerning tastes
of garlic butter and lemon.

I know it was the crab – drumming pincers
rhythmically beating
me loose from my imagination –
that clutched my big toe in claws
unable to feel pain, and, appreciating the irony,
I retreated to the Fish Shack
to taste delicious revenge among
the garlic crab legs.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for a few prompts: