‘You’ve got your tit out a bit,’
a Margate youth points politely,
speaks quietly.
I say, ‘What?’
and then look down.
Oh fuck.
I tug at my elastic stretch, halter neck,
tankini top
and nod,
‘Cheers for that,’
then dive, without dignity, into the sea.
‘S’alright,’ he says
and sits a while
under stretched-out skies
to smoke a fag.
And sigh.
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