Beach Beauty

Spa

A young thin sets her back to Ra,
Glistening, covered in a cucumber mask
and the masseur beats oil into her thighs,
Taut, plucked, powdered dry,
Embalmed in beauty's masquerading lie.

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Coppertone at 40

Walking on the beach with old woman sighs,
A small dog at her heels,
She is mantled (tankini en shawl),
Modeled in faithfulness and modesty,

But the wind kicks up her shawl,
A finger to her lips, Fido nips,
There is nothing underneath but vagrancy.

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