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Spetses Island on location,
The sound man waits and
His audacious audio ignores
The clip, clipperty, clop
Of passing ponies.
Beckenbauers and Löwenbräus,
All with Sunmed and all well fed.
With no bras and no cars,
And no care for what Cousteau said.
And Cousteau said, “This sea is dead”
But the “18-30s” are looking like Frankie,
Back from Hollywood,
Misplaced and unremitting,
The flip flipperty flip flops of the sun seeker.
As the frail get weaker,
And the hot get sicker
And the cool get cooler
And the click clickerty clock,...
As Gatwick beckons,
Just a slow Crawley away,
From this Dapia Dock,
The clay bird song,
And the buzz of an outboard motor.
Thinking out loud, the sound man cries,
“My car is sick, back home in Surburbiton”
For the Löwenbräus and the Beckenbauers,
And the no bras, and the no cars,
For the well fed of Sunmed,
Sound man cares for what Cousteau said,
And Cousteau said, “This sea is dead”
Monkles
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