My creation sits near the pier, just below the briny boardwalk
of Stearns Wharf, with no fingers or toes only words to share.
Come closer, it speaks for me, don’t be afraid, analyze my sandy King, my masterpiece.
Tell me what you think, what vibe it brings as I hide behind the dunes.
It’s there for you, only you, to admire and photograph.
Shower me with coins rich tourists in the mouth of the elephant
whose trunk wraps around its body like a diamond-studded cobra
for warmth and protection. A mother nursing its calf that rose
from the desert’s core, teeth like stones that border.
Come closer, it speaks for me, I won’t bite. I can help you transform.