deepundergroundpoetry.com

Corinna



So you finally got an Italian husband,
who bought you a little large ship.
And you get to see your name upon it
when you stroll (behind him)
down the dock.

Maybe this time it will be taken out,
instead of just a floating table
for friends and drinks.
Maybe he will say yes
when you ask to steer it.

He won't, no matter how
you rub your tits against his.
No matter how wide the ocean is.
Only your name sees
the front of the ship.

But damn if it doesn't look good
in the harbor.

I took to dating again.
The second one from our old cafe.
She works there though.
Nice enough, pleasant eyes.
She's still new,
you can tell by
how high she buttons her blouse.

Red bra, her white shirt
tempts it to pink,
like baby rabbits.
Calm ones, but I think of
one day they'll be bounding.
Then I will gather them
and go through motions
of devouring them.
Hoarding them,
all to myself.

So, you go, set sail with Philippe.
All of the asses of boats
look the same from here.
Not much is impressive
from this perspective.

Still, Corinna has learned to stand
between me and the view of the harbor,
when she takes my order.
I tell her all the time
that it doesn't bother me.
I'm not paying attention at all
to what is leaving out there.
Today, she undid her top button.

After her shift, we're going swimming.
I've no doubt she'll wear
something modest
and try to conceal the wear and tear
of kids and husbands.
Or car crashes and boyfriends.
I've read them all by now,
just the titles are different.

Maybe we will snorkel at the reef
and grab anything green or gold.
I notice now, how exact that is
to the color of her eyes.

No need for shades like you wear
-those chrome tire rims for sunglasses.
Because you had to have something
to prove you went to Milan.
To prove that Philippe showed
his love to you.

Or, that gaudy ring, that will drown you
if you fall (tossed) overboard.
You can stare at it
as it leads you to the bottom of the sea.
Take some advice, just in case,
smile open mouthed as you sink.
You will suffer less,
and I hate to think
how long can that minute be;
Holding your breath,
as you think of
what wasn't meant to be
like this.

Me and Corinna are at the cove now.
All the locals are here.
Angel has his guitar
and Brenda is beading
Rene's hair.
Salt water makes it so frizzy,
but she's our best diver.

She found a coin once.
It's now on a necklace.
It's silver, and we're all
still pretty impressed.


~~~
Written by Styxian
Published
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