Brighton androgynous

.
she is androgynous,
and suddenly i understand that word,
proud and pale she walks the lanes
like whorehouse owners– still

i feel her femininity, ache
to gain her trust and want to
lie with her under a feather blanket,
wondering if she‘s man enough
to fuck me– or

we’ll sit and drink,
strictly behaving unisex, hide
deep behind our poetry &
dressed in latex boots, suspenders and
pink plastic corsets,
spit the growing night unto us–

either way is fine

i observed her on the beach,
putting herself onto the waves,
next to the west pier skeleton
and back comes seasick fun fair shrieks,
carried by the wind and damp
with longing to move on–

this is why i‘m here,

lying in this tiny room
of a victorian mansion house,
drinking red wine off the bottle
and she’s slipped her hand
under my flower print pajama,

when i close my eyes, i hear the sea &

like a slut with broken legs,
she‘s woven gold strings in her hair–

and her lovers lick her empty

.

so this is how this city feels to me after my first day here in brighton..walked the beach for hours yesterday and tried to get to know her a bit…smiles..the “slut with broken legs” refers to the West Pier Skeleton (above pic)
linking up with dVerse OpenLinkNight, hosted today by a marvelous Natasha Head..gates will swing open 3pm EST