you smell like beach swell and umbrella-blanket set
tissue roll-out carpet, bask in your sides, hip-bone
carbon monoxide, do you never sweat?
cardboard skin, hope you dont crumple into the ball on
your stained white-plaster chairs, slumped over with
bronzed hair curling off your head like whipped smoke.
hold the whip firm and steady, slip and slide and muddy
mess in your pudding hands, sunglasses rimmed with
self-esteem, vision purified, sun dont come round here no more.
And oh, I want to be the giggle beside you, the eyebrows
dripped around your eyes, I want to whisper behind a
held-out hand, pamphlet skin, tanned and bruising with stone.
you and your high-class thighs, I want to be
the mirror running around your ankles, the best friends
swim trunk nightmare, can you hear me over here?