here you are faceless bobs
like flotsam in the strait narrow

sea scented with iridescent oil
radiating in rainbow swirl

as fin glistens before tell-tale lollipops
are sucked into the cistern

they wave to no one in particular
as another burp pulls out for air

between horsburgh and mrs ramsay
lies the blue missionary yonder

so finally there they are
alone on this empty white spit

this sheen of bright light does blind
don’t block bastard

his hair singed by the setting disc
as they reminisce it seems like

the male lead is characteristically terse
the other all hands gulping as

the ground’s shifted already
the son is out of ampersands

change position even while
she unpicks the pretty doll and

where is the old non-sequitur
things have merged so well

it’s impossible to tell is the sand
beneath transplanted from a rose

as he smiles and leers
into your huge eustatic eyes

boy are we good at reclamation
your lips seem to say

those eyes shielded no more
by thick lens and clear as mirage

then out of nowhere three lads
and one girl come trundling

wet and naked claymation
down the shore brown

transfixed the two of you eye
the stylus stuck in the groove

fat girl squeals as one boy shoots
a plastic stratagem at her

the beach ball bounces off
her lustrous black flies

flinging streaks of binary pulse
at her analogue assailant

the culprit’s face perks up
a historical sparkle

one hasn’t witnessed for light
years through fugged-up binos

liquid trickling down
the corrugated forehead

girl relishing undivided
audience dance up and down

a long evanescent shoreline
the tide creates her broad feet

racing sideways as an alibi would
leaving shallow imprints

as romance comes rushing in
so the male places a banal paw

over my shoulder
shudder out of focus