prick on a jet ski

Into winter vacation

Green lake zen

Comes

Prick on a jet ski

.

Turning circles

Spraying his scent:

Diesel and sun cream

.

The swallow arcs skyward

To get out the way

But he’s not asking

.

In Ray Bans and wetsuit

He tears up the place

But the peace will outlast him.

.

Beneath herons in flight

And skies of azure

Comes

Prick on a jet ski

.

He can hold his head high

In the company of men

When they ask his top speed

.

But he can’t hear bird song

Or the ripple of waves

Feel soft breezes against him

.

Just the spank on water

Of his fibre glass hull

Like a kid banging plates for attention.

Man on a jet ski.

Man on a jet ski.

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About flowbert

Journalist investigating extreme experiences of solitude. View all posts by flowbert

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