“What did the creep mean
By what he’d just said:
Not every oyster

Has a pearl inside?”
She mused, looking out
At the summer sun,

Watching people run
On the sandy beach,
Playing their ball games,

Or walking with kids
Down to the sea’s edge
With buckets and spades;

“When the creep bedded
Me, I pretended
One great orgasm,

Enough to swallow
Him and his ego;
But it was all sham,

One big girly act;
He couldn’t have done
Worse if he were dead,”

She angrily said,
Scratching her slim thigh,
Watching the blue sky

With its warming sun
Blessing his damned head
On the beach below.