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