Why are they so sharp?

Why are they so sharp?

Pebbles thrown up

On the beach

At the shoreline

I wobble

Lifting a foot

To see a trickle of blood

And wish I had stayed

Sitting on the deckchair

As it was such a palaver

To get out of.

Nobody seemed to notice

But the shapely lady

In the yellow suit

The only one I really

Cottoned on to

She smiled with that “Oh you poor thing.”

Expression

Which makes me burn

It is so dismissive.

If I stayed at home

To read the paper,

Peruse the mail

Which is generally

A box full of circulars

Even with a ‘no junk mail’ sign,

Drank a bourbon from a tall glass

Full of ice

Lounged

In house clothes

Overlooked by the woman next door

Who walked down her path

To collect her mail

Wearing a robe

Open to the waist

With a cleavage to get lost in

Daring me to follow

And if I did the door would slam shut

As fast as a mousetrap

To leave me hanging

A prize chump

Wishing

Whilst dreaming of the ocean

When it is as blue as I remember

From holiday brochures

And as real as the advertising blurb

About recent property prices

In my area

Going through the roof

As all the while

The ice is slowly melting

The pool is so inviting

And just because I can,

I take a dip

For old-time’s sake.