Whales surface in Tuscany
The last audible sound was the slab blubber heave
the wet towel slump of washing from the drum
last thoughts of true grit and ligaments
hills under foot rose around the aching curve of bone and bones
while backronyms populated lists with the crashworthiness of love
so I'm having a pint of O'Hara's in Ittolittos
with The Barbarian and we get talking at least I do about The Mermaid Problem
and the pros and cons of Vibrolas on SGs
Andy has a tattoo of the Aleutians seen from space on his forearm
it bends like a Floyd Rose as he drains his glass
we agree that the mermaid at the checkout
ain't exactly La Zemanova, though she does clutch the keys
to all four chambers of our hearts
her fluke thump messes completely with my echolocation
to the point that consciously breathing
I end up beached on or perhaps in
this Tuscan field, all gelled up with nowhere to go
thar she blows! gagged the Witch
fusiform forearm fore-wipe
a sleeveless wrist bone trap of weird silver bracelets
the leash of metal in hot weather
her ash dye tramp stamp an arched
brocaded koi framing
addorsed regardant squid beaks
a cornification device
we set out to scan the shelves for draught flow and chitins
but I am hopelessly drawn to a Bluetooth jaw hands-free kit
with Velcro three-day stubble attachment
suited the box says to whale-speak
bile duct tape (included) will help remove
an airful of wireless bycatch:
MMSed screen shots of Geri in keratin shorts on a pod racer
hindered with Spice tunes and repetitive tab
ambergris necklaces
chagcha ringtones
and If you hadn't called me on a land line
I would text you a wisp of this mud-free Friulian Burgundy
its widely acclaimed memoir retrundling qualities
enhanced by silkworms
who lit the slipway
the land-locked gape
of the last Leviathan yawn
Milan April 2007