Cornubia
The man in the sea,
yellow is he.
Our sky, over sand, is grey, we sit
On grey rocks, sipping
Red, like-your-
Blood, pomegranate juice
(as valuable as opium)
And watch this man, alone
Undress or strip down
(To his essence?)
No, to his Speedos: blueblack withwhite
slash.
(Or tick)
Over his,
left,
buttock.
His skin, like an old sunflower, is yellow
(for he is a gentle)
From kidney failure or jaundice (oh, we saw this)
(jolly good, fellow)
Though skinny,
emaciated, almost,
his belly, stomach or paunch,
like that of an African -
Vulgar, protruding and accentuated
(he always talked of philosophy)
by his Speedos, which make his arse and groin,
appear - to us, the onlookers with red mouths
and pale blood - small.
He runs and shivers to submerge.
His hair (sullen, from the sea)
bobs on the surface.
He is merfellowesque, almost
near almost,
graceful among the dark green, white flecked, waves.
We finish our juice,
(as valuable as opium,)
and stand up and leave and smile at one-another and
in our heads, free heads, wish the
jaundiced man goodbye, goodday, tata.
Oh the seaside, oh that fellow,
Oh that yellow, bellied, fellow.
