I am a child again, a little girl of ten,
running in search of a new adventure.
The rotting smell of seaweed burns my nose,
but the ocean's spray is fine today
as it blows in from the Gulf of Mexico
christening my tongue with salt.

Gulls shriek wildly, white wings of beggars
flapping against the blue sky,
diving, swishing feathers tempting those below
to throw more bread.

Looking up and calling them,
a young female vacationer
offers them chunks of stale bread.
Everyone laughs at the feeding frenzy
until one rascal of a bird relieves himself.
Slow motion, a quiet second,
she squints from the bright sun
as his offering lands upon her closed eyelid.

A loud scream, faces frozen in time.
Is this a curse?
No, just some way in learning
that looking up to things of beauty too quickly
can be a striking experience.