A seaside poem:
| DISPLAY Sitting in the sun at a seaside café, enjoying, left behind when the walk became strenuous, I observed the sky and the sun and the sand and the passing acts of strangers. Across the way a young man stripped for surfing, buttocks to the wind. I viewed the process with no great interest and total lack of lust. “Anything occurring?” my companion asked, returned breathless and glowing from his hike. “A case of casual male nudity, no more.” “Worth seeing?” “No. His bum had no more substance than he had modesty.” –John Bailey Wales, April 2009 |
Strolling along the prom
