SavedYour timing is exquisite, sweetheart. Sit. You've overturned
The day. The sun, embarrassed by your beauty, dashes
For the nearest tree, and, having done so, sets the temperature
Plunging from 100 down to 98. I've dragged my rums and Cokes
Across my forehead to relieve the heat. Three have come and gone,
And yet I sweat. I'm plastered to this chair, and, in it, I have moaned
And groaned, and sometimes longingly recalled the way you look
Beside the pool, so fetching in your life-guard's suit, and mourned
Your absence. Now, you're here, in clothes, just momentarily?
I'll hang your suit to dry outside. I'll make a rum and Coke
For you, and put you in a place of honor in the air conditioning,
And gaze at you so longingly. I'm hoping you will spend the night.
You should, since you have overturned the day.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 78 times
Written on 2018-07-13 at 01:21
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