Friday, 13 October 2017

Old Romantic

Old Romantic

Careless memories float from distant years with flavours good,
a blitz of shadowed fragments and floating driftwood.

Audrey sews and seams torn jeans tight to the crotch,
her straying fingers brush slim fit denim against my cock,

pricking her needle into my thighs.  Denise fusses my eyes
with liner and mascara, breathing her kisses and sighs

blushing cheeks with rouge and rainbow. Now sashed aslant,
Mary slashes white across my visage like some kind of adamant.

Standing back, they all three now groom my hair and admire,
wild black spiked peaks and fop-troughs of hay and wire.

The treasure map now etched across my face,
set sail for Planet Earth and let’s get out of this place.

Up two steep flights to our cut-price Camden Palace,
heads turning under gay synthetic twinkling aurora borealis,

where love, dancing and youth is forever on our side
and grey forgotten futures tread in the autumn leaves outside.

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