Cola, birra, fanta, sprite. Sound waves, voice waves;
footprints in the sand, the repetitive chant to sell
refreshment: cola, birra, fanta, sprite, washes slowly
toward me, and away, east to west, west to east
as the water in giant, lazy waves rocks its own music
Warm, gentle, playful cousin of the destructive tsunami
as the child selling canned drink might be related to
the man departing the scene of the litter-bin bomb.
Sun beats down on us all, sand and skin burn.
Cola, birra, fanta, sprite.
Water seeks homogeneity.
People?