Robert Verdon, #207, Giving at the Office

in stocking-netted moonlight

air clear as a cuisenaire

paper-and-comb terraces bask along the heights

with brown rockeries and creosote paths

while in the alcoholic stillness of the evening,

elegant feet pass by the chrysanthemums, the

tennis courts, the flying dresses

a kumquat leaf whirls past the boarded-up sixties playcentre

below, an elegant nest of faintly nautical blue water-pipes

in the low, samurai sword sun sparks

off choice thoughts wrapped like chipolatas

of the onion mountains in the offing —

holographic harbours beckon, and

like the fairy cakes they nibble, the dusk lovers sparkle with money;

in stocking-netted moonlight

the Porsche lies down with the Beemer,

but only one of them finds it funny