Boundary

She is slick with oil and lemon juice
Her own tanning cocktail
And her sundress straps are down
She doesn't want lines.
From a distance she is a cherry tomato
Sun worshipping in the rough grass.
She is on the tartan car blanket
There is a transistor radio
And I think she is a movie star.
Her face is too the sun
Like the face of a sunflower.
She follows the sun round the sky.