At The Seaside
Happy Outing (a recollection)

Dragged willynilly like a ball in a pinmachine
I can see the promenade receding backwards
through a swirl of legs.

Presently we'll sit on the sand
like crabs burying ourselves.

Our Mum
will play ball with her boyfriend,
ignoring our shouts
that we need at once 40p
for ices & candyfloss.

She's a cow
but we were glad of this
when her big tits
were stuck in our mouths
& gratified us completely.

We don't mind or I don't
mind that she shows practically everything
she's got to that sleeked over swine who
grins nonstop voluptuously at her.

They'll hurry off
to the beachhut - always the same beachhut! –
while we ( exchanging our newly given £ notes
for chocbars, gingerpop or rides on donkeys
& merry-go-rounds ) will merrily wait
for the penitent return of our Mum
 - who somehow managed to bring us up

& we'll mark off this day
as a redletter day to be stored up regardless
& recollected happily, God wot!


She's a cow but we're glad she can enjoy herself as easily & probably even more cheaply than we do.

Certainly we don't like her friend or the thought of her beachhut; but she's all we've got - her great tits stand out like exclamation marks signifying the profoundest satisfaction for us -& God-willing she ought to be forgiven for grabbing something for herself sometimes, what!