AT THE SEASHORE Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali
The money-laden landlubber
sneezes out the gold dust
rising like a cloud
from the mine dump.
He scurries
to the coast
like a rabbit from hounds;
books as the beachfront hotel,
sits in the sun,
rolls on the sandy carpet
woven with beads of seashells;
and turns into a statue
of bronzed biceps.
The seal breeze
wafts a spray
of air into lungs
heavy with cobwebs
of cigar smoke.
The ear listens
to the waves
singing a lullaby:
'The sea O the sea,
to soothe the soul
of the surfeited pleasure-seeker.'
His eye jumps into life
to devour the body
of a bikini girl
cavorting like a mare
looking for a stallion
The day end
at the patio of the hotel
where a waiter
grins through thick lips,
bringing ice cold beer
for the master and missus.
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