New poem – 1st Draft
With our backs to the rest of the world
You laugh like a child behind your hands,
so hard it’s as though you’re sucking your life lines
in through your lips, while I pick sand out from between my teeth.
The Golden Delicious is banished off your Mum’s tartan rug.
It’s already sulking, wrapping itself in a golden, gritty blanket.
You said on the bus eating an apple on the beach was a bad idea.
But I was still hungry after silver foil wrapped baguettes
filled with cheese slices and marg.
You make art in the sand. Like a child, you don’t care if it falls down.
You pile it back together with another heavy bucket from the wet part of the beach.
I watch your back, spellbound. You are so persistent yet patient.
I can see your black bra through your white, skimpy vest top.
Your shoulders are goose pimpled, your hair is lose and everywhere.
So fucking beautiful.
The sea is coming closer. But you want to stay.
You’re not scared of the sea; you’d live in it if you could.
But you pretend you are, so I show some tenderness
instead of acting shy and defensive, like I did when you mentioned
you take Barbie pink pills, purple pills and blue pills,
green and yellow and orange pills.
You didn’t want to tell me what you take them for.
You let me play with the thin gold chain around your neck.
My fingers trace your collarbone, like vampires do in the old movies.
You are suddenly everywhere, hot headed and lovely,
twisting my arms. I softly bite your white neck.
It’s cold and smells of mango and coconut.
I don’t want to go to work, serve the fish you praise in batter with chips and vinegar.
But you’re ready. You shake your clothes, smack your hands,
and we skulk back up the bank to the town.