There is a sky-blue sky
With silver framed white clouds
The waiter’s uniforms
Are trimmed with turquoise brocade
Such are the welcomes of lascivious thoughts
As encouraged by the so so skimpy bikinis
Obsessed, as I have become
By the need to be more than overtly sexist
Not though caused by my looseness
As brought on by the Mediterranean vacation
But rather as a defiant response, to the slap-
Down email, from the Arvon course director
Of course no names are mentioned
No specifics given
Of the aforementioned complaint
A masterclass in denial, or deception
There is a sky-blue sky
White clouds heading for the heavens
Yet it is movement without movement
As it is music without music
I don’t expect Satie’s Gymnopédies
Are too too popular here in Sensatori
Neither Clare de Lune either
Not so so early in the day
The blue sky becomes more blue
As the excitement grows
Before the bride-to-be appears
In white veil, tattoos, painted toenails
