16MM VENUS 1973

She comes up out of the sea

and she is all blond –

she has lost her bikini;

the shark of her smile took it. She

reaches back; wrings brassy hair

in a wet mass. She wants to come over,

primp, turn around – pray her ass be kissed.

Her eyes glint sea-green; her breasts float

large and gently sloped as distant breakers;

nipples buoys; bush surf white. She

straddles the screen. Between the crack

of her butt you glimpse a sunsquint;

close eyes to sniff the vision burst.

Your throat detects encircling cigarettes

and bad cigars, old coats, stale popcorn;

knees cracking; torn leather seats creaking…

Open the eyes – to catch a last sneer,

as she steers her posterior down on the

mouth of the camera, turning all dark

in the must you breathe.

Willie Smith

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