Beach Babe, collage/acrylic, 6 x 6
Elizabeth W. Seaver
"Oh, no, not another one," you say to yourself while you sit on your tricycle, or balance marooned on a scooter with sand-clotted wheels, or worse, stand flat-footed holding a lame beach ball. There she goes, riding elegantly by, another of those gorgeous creatures, the beach babe on bicycle.
They barely sweat as they pedal lazily up and down the crowded shore, breeze blowing through feathers which never frizz in the humidity. The sun shines a little brighter on them and gulls and boys trip over themselves to buy her ice creams and lollipops to curry favor. Perhaps she will descend from her mobile throne and allow one to ride in her stead, and they may feel what it is like to be so blessed. But for now it is enough just being close to the queen of sand and surf, the goddess of the two-wheeler, an empress in golden suit and orange tights.