On the Unobtainable Task of Skimboarding

I’m sure there is some sort of solution.

A secret only spoken to teenage boys--

bennies whose suburban sidewalks are not conducive to surfing 

and whose “it’s-so-hot-you-could-fry-an-egg-on-it” pavements prove impractical for skateboarding in mid-August weather.

But I,      I just don’t get it. 

I do not understand how a human can simply skim across the receding surf without sinking into the sand. 

Scientifically speaking, I am sure the numbers don’t add up. 

Still, every summer I see dozens of middle school kids--

the same

that can devour an entire pizza in half a bite and soak up coca cola through an IV without gaining a single pound but miraculously, and suspiciously I might add, end up turning fat to protein to muscle in .35 seconds---

yes, these very ones graze the very top of the Jersey shore with sleek teardrop wooden boards sold at the Islander Store round the corner on Broadway. 

Perhaps it is my fear of falling that keeps me from flying down the beach with two feet firmly fixed on my trendy yellow skim board with up-to-date rubber edging arms carelessly resting on my hips because who needs to stable oneself with abs like these smile stretched wide screaming at the top of my lungs I AM NOT JUST A SKIM BOARDER I AM THE QUEEN OF THE BEACH! 

Or perhaps it is my fear of falling to my social death that quiets my inner skimmer.

Or this metaphor might go deeper into my fear of failing. 

Or, just to throw it out there, perhaps 125 pounds of woman was not meant to lightly skim the Atlantic shore but was intended to save her energy to make a heavier and much much more important impact on this beach…on this state...on this world…maybe she should continue writing free verse from her striped, mesh beach chair, also bought at the Islander Store on Broadway, gazing at the beach goers and creatively and poetically critiquing the unobtainable task of skim boarding

which is actually an allusion to her desire to drop     

a few     

pounds.