A jest or attitude, it’s hard to say

But surely, this short reel, attesting faith

That the body, booty, at beachside, counts

For something essential, perhaps a world

A wager on the future, a prospect

Gyrating, shimmering, foaming like waves

And to say that’s mere “vanity”—is broke

As broke as the arguments for Reason

For the time being, at least, until The Mode—

Then all might click into place, will make sense

Of waves, belly buttons, sharks, and beach buns

Not to mention the night sky view from Mars

Glimmering in the future, but by then

We will have passed in full shimmery mode.