The straw boated man

The straw boated man croons
his battered guitar sings with strings along
waves are crashing as the fishermen
plays, a catamaran fights
the wind and wins
a carnage of flags and palm trees
bow
in ordnance to the dance
of the seagulls pirouettes on invisible thermals
only they can see, and hold, and romance
The gentleman sat to my right
is slowly basted red
although no sun has shed
in half a week
so the sangria is doing its job
I laugh inside, and realise
that my tan too is finalised.
A troll sits on the sea front wall
performing fellatio on a mint choc ice cream cone
a troll? perhaps a she teen
I try to focus and take it in
a bridge is left unguarded I fear
a tear
From the wind breakers
on my cheek
as the cone ejaculates green
on her second chin
and I weep.
It is time to return the cell of an apartment
retire my desire
prey for fire and warmth
the sea front closes
disclosure
I flip a Euro to the straw boated man
and sleep, weep
in the salty
aftermath
spanish legs raised
can can.