D.E.T

in the morning we
were mosquito food--
the bathrooms smelled
southern wood baking
in the new sun--
we walked to the beach
at some time unaware
of the time crashing on
the shore shells crabs
crab holes they skirted
along the beach watching
wearily they don't trust
big fleshy clumsy feet and teeth
that gnaw and gnash their
brothers--
we fell in the waves
and I carried you out
to sea-- you screaming
--and on the beach no
one but us-- following
you with camera on high
dunes-- you wanted to see
the sea turtles still warm
in eggs unborn-- we were too
early and they behind
man-made tarps--
but picked up sea shells
and washed them in
the clear waters off the
island--
I watched the sea of
the dunes stretching out
until they bled into pearly
blue skies that last night
had been heavy rain clouds
and thunder that shook our
car until it felt to flip over
and finish us-- I felt
your warm skin against me
as we climbed back to camp--
to become mosquito food again
to be guarded from the ocean--
I heard the waves crashing over
our horizon beyond cactus and
dead graying limbs--
I felt those fuckers start biting
and buzzing and landing--
you frantically sprayed us down 
too late