I know anatomists say ice cream cones sold at Shelly’s Beach Ice Cream Parlor don’t have hearts. They must be missing some crucial information.
You took me out of the freezer and into the fatal embrace of the sun. You kissed me, but as you were making love to me you took away little pieces of me, until piece by piece, my soul was in your stomach.
My plastic jacket you carelessly dropped in the sand, to be devoured by the waves. Now I’m not only being digested, I’m causing fish in the ocean to die. I like fish.
You have hurt me more than anyone in this short life.