Mrs Dryden
sat behind you
on the beach
combing your hair
you watching
the racing tide
the sounds
on the shingle
the other people
sitting or walking
or playing ball
or flicking Frisbees
each to each
her fingers
parting strands
patting down
waves of hair
she maybe reflecting
on the night before
in the cheap hotel
the creaking bed
the second rate
furniture
the Full English breakfast
she having
a young guy
between her thighs
she spoke
of her husband’s failings
his betrayals
his preference
for younger women
you taking in
the scarcely cladded girls
sitting or walking the beach
out of your safety zone
out of reach
and Mrs Dryden’s fingers
moving down your jowls
her lips kissing
your neck
at the back
her breath
whispering words
you thinking
of Miss Fox
the year before
how you nearly went
all the way
(as they used to say)
until her parents
came back home
too soon
spoilt the fun
of one on one
look at that ship
passing over there
Mrs Dryden said
pointing out to sea
her other hand
holding yours
her words carried
on the air
and you imagining
Miss Fox
maybe sitting there.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Mrs Dryden
sat behind you
on the beach
combing your hair
you watching
the racing tide
the sounds
on the shingle
the other people
sitting or walking
or playing ball
or flicking Frisbees
each to each
her fingers
parting strands
patting down
waves of hair
she maybe reflecting
on the night before
in the cheap hotel
the creaking bed
the second rate
furniture
the Full English breakfast
she having
a young guy
between her thighs
she spoke
of her husband’s failings
his betrayals
his preference
for younger women
you taking in
the scarcely cladded girls
sitting or walking the beach
out of your safety zone
out of reach
and Mrs Dryden’s fingers
moving down your jowls
her lips kissing
your neck
at the back
her breath
whispering words
you thinking
of Miss Fox
the year before
how you nearly went
all the way
(as they used to say)
until her parents
came back home
too soon
spoilt the fun
of one on one
look at that ship
passing over there
Mrs Dryden said
pointing out to sea
her other hand
holding yours
her words carried
on the air
and you imagining
Miss Fox
maybe sitting there.
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