Hotel Olympic Plage Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

the moon across his shoulders
listening to the silence of cicadas
in the darkness of Aleppo Pines
and the murmurings of shadows
ascending the steps from the beach

there stands Apollo
at the entrance to the cocktail-bar

how could it have come to this
even the you know what
has lost it's fizz

yet there's magic on this terrace
civilisation's furthest reach

at the tips of Barbie's fingers
it's rouge laque
coral
fuchsia
apricot
and peach