My sweat-beaded head like a drying flipper
As a bends-bent diver is pronounced dead.
Pleasant emptiness nesting in my head
Like some rare bird gilt feathered, which bipolar climate sent instead
Of the more familiar kind.
Our borderstraddling birders bored us
With pictures of strange murders against porous skies.
Poorer service than ever I had suffered
Disgustingly stuffed in my warmest duffle, conducting junkie shuffles.
The Antonine plague and worsening behaviour
Compete to clear streets. City which cheers at Easter
But not for Jesus saviour. Hosted one famous day.
Cleared-nose hued the, lately, huge waves salinating our picnic places.
Flaying winds faced pink-cheeked,
So much green on me, got Ranger chic.
Alchemisland 
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