Nineteen and the Mermaids

Found after a storm
by a walker out on his own
after a Christmas lunch for 
one was a sand letter and
three pairs of shoes
which were in truth
unbefitting for terrain
such as this.
 
He read with interest
the swept italics
two or three times,
written with strong fingers
he noted keenly.
No wonder he was 
alone with his parents
and these passions.
 
He charged the merry wind
to the sly waters edge,
peered at the horizon,
chewed his bottom lip,
tried to light a cigarette
with hotel matches
that laughed and 
sizzled at him.
 
He peeled off his brogues,
hole in one socks,
loosened his tie, and
pushed a hand through his 
hair. He skipped into the surf
for life and for joy.
Now there’s a quartet of delirium 
in love with the mermaids.
 
Fifteen more appear,
ambled from the dunes.
Singing carols and curses,
fed on turkey and time,
drunk on apricot brandy,
primed and ready basted
to contribute to the wonder
of the shoe shop on the beach.