Summertime...
We will swim naked ~
till cops come.
Summertime...
cockroaches fly
like fat moths.
Curlers too tight ~
pinching her head;
she tugs at a pin...
A powerful smell
escapes the dump,
slips into my mind...
Sunbed vixen ~
her brown skin
so deeply creased.
Cigarette smoke
curls into her eyes...
and she squints.
Torn bloomers...
curlers in her hair...
my true love!
