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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