Backwards
in the realms of marine stardust
there still flicker deviant desires,
fanned flames that nothing can prevent,
lustrous ignitions devoid of hesitations;
bartering for the souls and shoes
of footloose heroines,
laddered of stocking and careless
of moral fibre;
ah, they were and shall always remain
teenage handmaidens who never addressed
nor paid faintest attention to
my secret sexual schemata.
Mermaids on salt streaked rocks,
seaweed strewn sands,
beached with slapping tails
and ringlet-framed smiles;
sipping cherry coke on the psychic coastlines
of my derelict and vandalised
sea front promenades.
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