Hut, two, three, four
"But he can't walk. Because he is dead."
Expresses our hero as he slowly rises.
"Let's see who is in that hut ahead.
I'm sorry, Tony. On to more pressing crises."
Eyeing the crab one last time, Harold stumbles,
Very weak still from his journey.
Every step is an accomplishment. Harold mumbles
Something he imagines soldiers learn. He
Puts more and more oomph into the phrase.
"How did i get here?" is his echoing question now.
Entering one of the beach-side huts he braces:
Ready or not, here it comes. "Wow.
Empty." He spots a cot and collapses.
"So it's sleep again," he yawns, as off into slumber he passes.
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