Solve this: for amusement my favorite detective carries home

A pregnant albatross under his sea-blue vest.

Who should follow but that lazy bunch from his sea voyage.

They come gliding along on ice skates, then one trips and bloodies his gums on the concrete.

The pain some have even though they’re not sick bends me to the surfer’s point of view

That rows of chess players on the boardwalk malign the sea, haunt it

Lazily. ’Tis a damn pity, the grand leers they make at the white squares

As though they made up the front of an ice truck. Training on the coast

This traveler lost his gloves, his title, and for what?

Lay on your back in a row boat, get laid, read a comic.

An ape’s belly could break your heart with its brutish, gauloise

Laughter. A botanist is the same. He foliates on his infirmities.

What does a poet look like? is he the prince of nudes?

These questions haunted me when the musicians were rioting for Joan of Arc.

In the end, at least the sour sun tastes the best of my hues

And sails them out giant-sized, as fish in a marching band.