Beach With Absence Of Yellow
Because
you were gone
the sun was a gin-soaked gypsy
in a yellow dress
going inevitably down
down where sticky darkness
wants to go, sliding from
the mouths
of ruined sailors
whose pleasures led them to the overflow,
drowned down gold-bright waves, row on row,
to wash up sorry scarecrows
on the shore, back-stabbed and
broken to the empty land once more.
Because
everything is gone,
the morning sun is sober as a cat,
bored and batting at the palm-leaf's knees.
The sailor's flattened hat is
shredded on an unpersuaded breeze
that only wants to quit
and all along the boulevard
cigarette butts still roll,
the mirrors lie,
the telephones ring.
March 2023
posted for
Images: Venus and the Sailor, 1935 ©Salvador Dali
Vegetal Puppets, 1938 ©Remedios Varo
