.
You came and stood by my table
My my my.
Best thing I've been downwind of all year.
How many senses breach that handsbreadth of sky
that prickles taut between us in this grainy summer dry?
Dress softening by breeze against my hard trousered leg;
and just once featherweight on my cheek it brushed
the whiff of sea,
meadowbloom, jonquill.
The brookish gurgle of your laughter.
And there we were, surrounded by traffic and dust,
Lost in the clumsiest lust.
My my my.
Philip White
.
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