Poem: Ebb and Flow

My sex drive is breaking up
like a bad cell phone connection.
That no one picks up
sounds like good news.
A horseshoe crab washed up
by the outgoing tide, I lie
on its sandy stage, raked
seawards, wishing for
a level playing field.
Waves of applause attend me
as I endlessly rock to and fro.
On the next beach someone’s
ringer is ringing,
or just another buoy
marking the way.