On the forecourt
Yesterday a sight
A tray of plums
All roundness
And delight
Drew me back
To peaches in Paris
Pink and tidy
Bosoms kept tight
Corseted in card
Arrayed in trays
Ranged in tiers
Inviting all that
Tactile touchiness
Of forbidden fruit.
Each nipple promised
Sweet forgetfulness
Lost in pleasures,
Contextualised
4
my i’s delight.
Avert your eyes young man
Those plums are mine
Get on your way
And come back another day
When you have
The means to pay.
JL 8 Oct 2011
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