Next to a god, he loves his country
land of frontier men
of centuries of this toil and that toil
songs of glory etc
and all those heroic happy dead
who rushed like tigers to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think of
Me
this Saturday eating a
sandwich, outside the pub, looking
at this girl
she is dark
latin, maybe
large brown eyes look up from the screen
her legs keep moving, moving,
she is doing a slow dance
the cloth hugs her body,
the lightest of pink is that cloth,
she moves her a ss on the
bench, this way and that
I cannot leave her vision
and have no desire to. . .
I am listening to iphoned music
that she cannot hear
but she is moving
to the rhythm of my song
she is thinking about a man
who is a god
i am a god.
girl, portrait cayman islands by Tony Walton, on Flickr