The Coco Butter of Winter
Sally
Hides my scotch from
Her mother above the bar sink
Where she cannot reach
Near the sun screen lotion
From last summer the
Coco butter from the tropics which has a fragrance
Smarts the vision
Of Sally on the lawn
I was never that good at honest
Good bye's to summer
In thought at the linen closet
An apprehension
There it was that towel she
Laid herself on upon the lawn next to the
David Hockney reflected lit pool a hint of her still
There coco butter
after the wash and storage
It was enough of her for the sun
To shine the pool cover in storage
Her navel stomach smooth
Kissing her there I lay my head
Warm nights the lights
The shooting stars of August
But the crime of winter's cold
Imprisons us inside to
Sit by the blazing fire
Under the thought of a
hot honest sun of August
On the shag not the lawn
We become the towel
Of summer
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