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It is a cold day but the fat boy sweats,
Giggling his jowls to bouncing blubber,
Cunning, prodding stubby fingers
In the joint behind the knee,
Grabs locket-twists of gilded hair.
His feverish pink and freckled skin
Jolts against me like the noise.
Uneasily, I stir:
The sealed bus enfolds us
In its velocity and spaces,
Far from the silvered sea.

Which breaks.
Crump beside the dunes.
All along the shore gulls view
Perspectives on infinity.

Copyright © 1976, 2003 Hugh Cook

Picture of front cover of ARC OF LIGHT poetry collection by Hugh Cook.

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