Cupboard Love

What took them to part

Stretched enough to break

Gold rimmed porcelain plates

Sign off those affluent times

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Wrap

My skin is cleaner

I kissed your lips

You smiled, joked

About my person

My profile is ungainly

I nestle up close

Your warmth, welcome

About my person

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Placed

Seagulls make their call

All over that old song by Procul Harum

How close then the sea I ask myself

What distance to the gleam of salted water

Bentos Sketchbook lays on top

Of the ladies golden-handled carrier bag

The bag is embroidered, festooned with brocade

I wonder at the time taken in its assembly

Tomorrow it will carry beach towels

Suncream, a few very personal nic-nacs

To give the day a surety of purpose

On Wednesday next we will go home

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Pond-life

Hesitantly I enter the pool

Take refuge on the inflatable ring

Paddle, with hands and feet

Side to side, end to end

Body and water become at one

I swim several lengths

First slowly, without cutting the surface

Then at pace; frenetic, wilfully insurgent

To be pursued, so I read, is to lose all fear

Thus encouraged I take a position at the deep end

Dive, or plunge; for at once I recognise

I am anything but a torpedo

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Boys

As if more than the ether, sounds 

& methylated vapours evaporate

From the tables of nail varnish

Good vibrations

She’s giving me excitations

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