You wrote
me a postcard
full of
fabulous holiday news
how where
you were staying was
luxurious
oh, the
views
how the
beach was so close
how you
bathed in the sea
and
how the
evenings were
even lovelier
than the day
were reflected
jewels
framing a
cerulean mirror
how
dolphins swam in
right up
to the shore
and mischievous
seagulls
stole
chips from folk
on a coach
tour.
And, yes,
I can picture you there
on your
postcard beach
and you in
your bikini
cheesecloth
blouse knotted
under
your breasts
against
the sea breeze
and I can
taste
the ice
cream that
you tongue-tease
and scent
the sand and lotion
on your
satin skin
You wrote
how you
wished I was there
how you
were missing me
and I was
curious
surprised
that you
thought
about me
while you
were away
because
if I’m
honest
I don’t
really like you very much.
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