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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Condoms in a pond
Condoms in a pond
It was summer and I wore sandals and white socks
my feet looked English. A snob with sandals on
manicured toes murmured about shameless taste.
Offended took the white socks off through them
Into the pond where they floated forlorn as
spent condoms, like there had been ejaculations
by a thousand submariners on shore-leave and
now sadness remained cast a shadow on still
water an omen of evil intent. Sober, I regretted
my hurriedness fished the socks up, wrung and put
them back on. My English feet which applauded,
why should we care what a man with manicured
toes thought.
It was summer and I wore sandals and white socks
my feet looked English. A snob with sandals on
manicured toes murmured about shameless taste.
Offended took the white socks off through them
Into the pond where they floated forlorn as
spent condoms, like there had been ejaculations
by a thousand submariners on shore-leave and
now sadness remained cast a shadow on still
water an omen of evil intent. Sober, I regretted
my hurriedness fished the socks up, wrung and put
them back on. My English feet which applauded,
why should we care what a man with manicured
toes thought.
Published 18th Oct 2015
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