Skipping Stones On The Aegean Poem by Robert Dawson

SKIPPING STONES ON THE AEGEAN

So culture bound I get a hard-on
thinking of classical nudity
I stalk the beach for flat stones
while my wife unstrings her bikini.

The island's ours. Both taxis coast
over the rock-walled gully goat-run
racing to rattle us home. The hacks
favor topless and the Viet Cong.

A cruise tacks down to yellow Delos …
Donne's "piece of the main" severed
complete with cinema and English rock ‘n roll …
confident every niche itches to be discovered.

I slap my ankle and dance
The Plane Tree by the Water.
My shoulder aches to stretch

the string of splashes sown by each skimmed stone. Not
a spar of drift clutters this agate beach.

I'm shedding my New World fat.