Paradise is somewhere between your third and 4th plate of chicken nuggets where the water reaches your feet but not your seat.... ya dig?
Listen... Do you hear it?
Thats the sound of a furocious warrior dolphin amidst the heat of an epic maiting season.
Listen again...
Thats a bahama papa bound for a bahama mama if you know what I'm saying.
That dolphins swag has testosterOWNED written all over it.
from the shade of my tiki hut to the sweet sensual kiss of the sun offers to everywhere my swimsuit isn't.
I just don't see anything wise about life on a rock.
Somewhere bewteen the second and third gulp of Alberts pina colada potion made me wonder if God was told to stay in the lines when he painted the earth.
Personally. there is NO WAY...
This is about all the thinking I can handle for one day though. I don't know what life is like up on the rock but if it doesn't involve bikinis or palm trees dancing through my mind I don't want any part of it.
Something about the way the sand sits between your toes when the water reaches your feet but not your seat makes it possible to put the world away for a minute and pretend you dont live in it.
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