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Beach bum.

I catch him as he kicks his sneakers off and crabs his arms back, grabbing at his shirt, backs out of it and drops it in a heap, undoes his fly and shimmies off his pants, thumbs the loose elastic of his shorts around his ankles and just tiptoes out into the water, spritzing ribs and arms, his hairy shanks and belly, squatting down and bobbing back, pincing his nose to plunk at last full under, scrunching fingers through his scalp, surfacing in a drape of foam and knuckling clear the salt sting from his eyes. He turns and, paddling, skates back through the swells to shore and waits there, naked, skinny legs pitched wide, his eyes half open, fingers meshed behind his head, the small, forgotten penis drying saltly in the languid air as though the slick of bodies sprawled about on towels, drowsing in the rising haze, weren't there, or were blind, or were each one lost in someone else's dirty world.
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Copyright 1992 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

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Author:Spera, Gabriel
Publication:Chicago Review
Date:Jan 1, 1992
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