port o'call

By Christopher Mulrooney

I see amongst these trees
the why and whithersoever
of a day's march
under some bumbledore
or flivver from the day's heat
with the rank atmosphere of the torpid noon
beating my breast for a long cool drink
I think I never shall see
Battingsea or Marylebone
again without a lime rickey
and two girls on each arm
fabulously