That gritty powder, sparkling white,
With sprinkled spice of diamond shards,
Spread out in miles and up in dunes,
Clutched the churning emerald
And startled my delight awake.
I had to try to take it home.
A bucket for a pilferred high–
A shovel for abetting crime–
Were all the tools I tought I’d need
For taking joy across state lines;
But back at home, without sunbleach,
My sand and sight returned to gray.