The once timid
Shores of my resistance.
Fearing an inundation of the sorts
of Flotsam and Jetsam that can cure a man of loneliness,
Were trampled like soccer fans in Venezuela, when you appeared on my shore.
Certain that the fraughting souls within, were to cover me in stinking pitch.
I retreated to the hills and played the wait and see.
Waiting and watching and hoping to pray.
And when you legged your way
onto my beach,
I cried like a gangster on new years eve