I saw something interesting at Arizona Beach.
It was a man with three golf balls in his mouth.
He stood in such a way that the people around him laughed.
He was darting his eyes back and forth like a prostitute.
He also had a large stick of chalk in his hand.
He was spelling something in the air.
I could read it, and I'll tell you what it said:
"Go away, you vast band of gypsies.
Leave me to my boombox and surf board.
I've almost had it with this two-horse town."
This man could not have been a lunatic.
He was too dexterous, and besides he was wearing a suit.

Off to the right of this scene there was a bonfire.
On the bonfire people were baking fresh clams.
I'll tell you something, these people were the salt of the earth.
Some of them were playing air guitars and humming.
One of the women wore a red neckerchief.
When I left for more hoagies the sun was declining.
The day was waning, the dusk was waxing.
I really stubbed my toe on a sand-covered board.
Then, almost inaudibly, a sound made itself heard.
It was the sound of thousands of ants crying out for peace.
It was the thin chant of marchers descending on a capitol.
There were voices of prisoners requesting release
and the small sound of chomping, as of children eating apples.

I saw some interesting things at Arizona Beach.
Among them, a man with three golf balls in his mouth.