Far below a magic wood;
beneath eucalyptus trees
and enchanted honey
It is the land that my lovely lass
had once loved to skive
Thailand
Home to flying mackerel
and harmless carp
It is the place where hopeless
tuna cease to grow
Born in a milky white crevice,
the place where octopi lose their grip.
It is the spot where little fish pop
and big one's
quiver
Tired and limp, it doesn't really
matter what my girlfriend
says
For men must be men
and it doesn't really matter
what she might say
Inward and onward, a rollicking
fish that makes my guppy
do the trick
Deep, deep, I can feel it in my throat.
Pulsing, inching, waiting for the big
sh-bang
It was many years ago when I first
felt these feelings thinking of Crazy Alice
during the early morning school recess
No reason to clamor on the old
school yard. Because Julio doesn't know how
to do it, anyway. But his sister surely does
No need to reminisce because good ole
Mary knows how to swim,
Shuckin' and jivin' like a lonely farmer's
seed
Early morning breakfast with fried egg
and chorizo, old dried chili sauce,
and a monumental jolt
Itchin', twitchin' doin' a little morning dance;
A childhood memory before the
morning prayer
Black teeth and a wider grin, I fell so far
I thought I might vanish
in her tomb
But it is all in a day's work,
When a schoolboy
licks his peanut butter and his girlfriend
sally's forth
You may say it doesn't really matter. But I know
it really does.
It is the sort of thing
that a Freemason usually keeps quiet.
But it makes
his lubricated mistress
comb her hair and grind her lovely hedge.
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