© Christopher Raine


Aegean Sea

I do not dream
of morning sea kisses
swept with salt-summer romance
evenings sweet as rain
or an oasis
weeping in the desert
of some whimsical mirage

I do not long
for sparkling-magical romances
lapped up in tongues
with the sweetness
of nectar drawn
from aspartame fairies’
wet-petal wings

I do not need
lucre’s cocaine-romance
empty of meaning
hardcore-held by tender tethers
of gold-fleeced fantasies
spread upon a universe
of hateful avarice

I’d rather have
cold rinsed dishes
pilled-out laundry
toaster-tired meals
stale-lukewarm sex
and cabbage wrapped dreams
soaked in vodka

I’d rather see
bitter reality rising
in the prayers of a man
who believes in the power
of positive thinking
while truth around him explodes
like a volcano in the Aegean Sea

I’d rather be here
growing old with you
dying threadbare
on the smoke-stained sofa
binge-watching stale television
drinking whiskey, smoking cigars
and laughing at ourselves