Inspired by a woman I clocked outside the bread shop a few weeks ago….one of those thin women with snappy ankles who wear converse and skinny skinny black ankle grazing jeans and a parka and manage to ooze sex.
She’s got an old neck though.
Skin pulled across muscle and ligament up to her thin downy jaw
like the tension cables on a bridge.
A body dipped in tan.
An expensive sun for that one
not a cheap last minute costa sun
but a far off five star sun.
A tan that cooled itself in near clear,
shallow, glittered water,
no swell to knock it off balance
to leave seaweed in its hair
to leave it gasping, winded,
topless and unwitting full frontal to the larded gawpers on the beach.
She’s waiting for him to buy bread
holding the dog of perfect black
one foot pointed,
eyes still behind dark lenses.
I drink my coffee,
my skin the colour of froth.