Ahhh Beach supreme. . You call to me and say, “Leave negative degree weather and take up airplane taxi train sandal and raft, rentable chair and tacky colorful beach towel to meet me”. and oh how I want to. As i write to you now i must first make one small confession: though its been weeks since I left you (idiot, me) I still daily crave the taste of those delicious pina coladas mixed with sweet strawberry puree served in cheap plastic cups sipped by large guage straws concocted by some wizard bartender at the Hawaiian themed bar place next to you (..like an addict after liquid crack. Who knows? Maybe there was real cocaine in those drinks? Yes, they tasted that good.) But alas its really you, beach supreme, that I truly miss.
Oh, beach supreme, believe me when I cry that your dazzling, bountiful sands still awestrike me more than any other. My eyes are whiplashed by the sheer rememberence of the vision of your tremendous yards long beauty. the mental sight of your gently cascading waves coupled with the sound of your soothing waters rush cripples me with longing. All I can do is suffer your absence and bite my fists with my teeth til I can bear the pain of the biting no longer- for I know it would takes thousands of green backs and hours of planning, and inclement weather, and crazy taxi drivers playing way too loud salsa music, and an airport patdown in those places only your sands have seen, and a xanax-less flight with mild turbulence that will have me crying for gods mercy on my sinning soul that I may survive to safely reach you ;That I might Feel the same warm suns that warm you again, That I might tan my cancer free skin (knock on wood) and that my shadow might etch upon you, my ideal backdrop again, That I might bravely sport that sexy monokini I never had the cajones to take the tags off of, and sip that weirdly titled “Lava flow” pina coloda drink (dumb name, great drink) I mentioned before all upon your maize colored grit blanket of sand.
But since that wont be soon, or easy, We beg you beach supreme, in our weakened state, where winter weather has stripped us bare of all hope and happiness for the future, just as it has stripped the trees of all their green.. Why cant you come to us? Well be waiting and fist biting, until you do**
O and om
**im in chicago. Have mercy.