We pull up in our truck

beach boys pour out of speakers

our surfboards in back

race to the sound of the waves crash

Surfers gather all around

like the seagulls on the buoys

We drop in and carve the foam

and wash up like fish out water

Riding beach cruisers and playing volleyball

With the wind draughting by

sand in our hair

Sunburnt faces smiling with friends

sand oozing between our toes

The waves reaching for the magical pier 

full of rides, rhythms, and restaurants

The salted mist dampened on our lips

Tired and dusty

Full of hotdogs and smores

sitting around the bonfire

smelling as the drift wood it burns