That baby on the left...
well he hit hard and never fully recovered.
The beach unmercifully swallowed his head
leaving his arms, torso and legs akimbo,
thrashing for attention
His school years
were endless jeers
from relentless peers.
They nicknamed him "Shelly,"
"Barnacle Bill" ...even "Crabby"
just to see his anger froth.
The poor boy.
His hair, carrot in color,
was textured as seaweed.
Skin, coarse as rocks,
blemished and unrefined
leaving himself an unavoidable beacon
He was, in fact, one night shy of Lunacy.
As an adult he would anchor himself on shore
while his eyes would navigate the horizon
like a readied battleship set course
to locate and unearth any who were buried
beneath the surface...
that he might soothe them,
calm their insatiable rage,
help them to sleep.
Pail and shovel in hand,
he became known to some of us as...
The Sand Man.