Coconut Grove “Margaritaville” — Jimmy Buffett

laying prone upon the sand, belly up, sprawling; all they needed now was a palm frond waving overhead and a servant to laviciously feed her.

alas, they had none of that. sand, sparse shade, the rumble of a distant whitecap.

there were voices down the rise. intrigued, the jewel stretches out and rolls in one fluid movement unto their belly again, feeling the sand crest their spine.

hm? a boy—up she rises, shoulders tucked and back stretching, eyes only for him.