Newly Flarfed Beach Poem

speaking of beach. i was there the other day
a big mama seagull robbed me of my half-eaten
chicken breast. it didn't swoop down. it was walking
around on the sand. i was sitting on the sand reading
a cookbook by the frugal gourmet. tall laura
was reading andrea baker's dumb book of poetry
the one i thought i sold to powell’s but powell’s
didn’t want it. they didn’t want jeff smith, but that i
can understand, what with the molesting and all
and the methodist preaching. anyway tall laura
she was tossing potato chips at the gulls. kettle chips.
i should clarify. by “dumb” i meant that the book
about windows and wind didn’t speak. it was mute.
like most non-sentient objects. anyway, as soon
as i got up to look at the sea, the mama bird
went over and snatched my chicken. i had richmond
lattimore's translation of the new testament resting
on my left knee and an apple core covered
with sand at 10 o'clock. i had everything i needed,
including whiskey mixed with iced tea but i didn't
have my chicken bone and i learned that birds have
vaginas. joe says he’s never seen pigeon cock
and i believe him. there was a lighthouse in there too.