Duelists remarking the shoreline's fair, Suave and snakelike grace, are debonair. To see Beauty in the tooth That loots you of your life, is truth. So they thought as they paced the sands And took the air, having shaken hands. Blessing gracious life's most gracious feast, Pinky to pinky, they tinked teacups With the beast. Redder sands rubbed hourglass Hands, ticking as their seconds ran. Debonair as dandies though they stood, The sizzing sea hissed in her maternal moods. No one attended their marginal funeral Save one awl-beaked dull-eyed slue-foot gull.