Truth you see, when back into a crevice
Between stones, cannot be got, will not be out
Unless you wait– Oh you may poke it with a stick
But you only succeed in helping the thing
Lodge itself more firmly — Hard to come by, yes
And the old crab it tough: if it sees you coming
It scurries from sight to ageless foam and water
Where the wind blows the surface black and white.
Better at that point to give up unless by chance
Some afternoon you see it on the sand, but watch it,
Those claws won’t be had without a fearsome pinch!
Better leave it alone as it lets us, better stuff
Is found downtown, like barmaids singing each to each—
Walks along the beach take time and well, we all know
What time is on Wall Street.