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Do Swans Get Jealous? (#2) (Free verse) by Christof

As I sit eating my bagel by the tourists in the park A sunning swan slips past all arch From neck to breast to wing to tail Pert in her bodice of sleek and white. The hot eyes follow Till a rubbish-truck arrives When a boy, not seven, in a shirt of livid green Pats through the flowers to interrogate the dustman And the eyes follow The dustman Red-faced in the heat, jawing with the grinning boy Pointing at the panting garbage heap. As I sit, the tourists laughing in their swelter, The sorbet white of the swan's intent Ebbs away with the shrug of one Who has too late noticed the sun's dark sweat.

Christof 21-Oct-02/1:26 AM
St James's, but close enough... you know London?




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