Slip Alley XVII

Jack sits on the beach,
Thi swims in turquoise,
it’s unusually clear, the haze
has lifted from the rocky islands,
a junk sails lazily by catching
the gentle breeze.

In the resort behind him
women and men of a certain age
lie on massage beds in the spa,
lithe young women realign ligaments
with strong sure hands
kneading flesh, pressing bones,
seeking every weakness
relishing the sighs
of pain and relief.

Isamu grunts with bliss,
tension finally dissolving
under the masseur’s feet,
he watches Ollie close in on Eric
on a screen behind his closed eyes,
he watches Greta hide her baby Glock
in the closet of  the second bedroom
in Ollie’s apartment
closely watched blue Ollie’s blue cat,
the cat looks at Isamu and smiles.

Ollie walks up the steps
with two noodle boxes
and a bottle of chilled
sauvignon blanc.


Sveta smiles enigmatically,
“That will give them something to think about”,
she closes her laptop and calls it a night.


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