corfu

basically,
you were just a pain in the arse
well, most of the time.

ten or so years younger but uptight, upright like
the daily mail or the twitchy curtains in the
subsuburban avenue where you grew up, mad morose dad
henpecked to fuck by madder, poisonous dark-eyed witch-mother italian peasant
muttering curses, criticising somebody for eating
a peach the wrong way in
hateful fucking clutter of tupperware and cheap tightwadded surrey, honey

but

one week of sunshine corfu, living on feta cheese and killing the ants in
the little apartment while still cock-numb and sweat-slick from the
sex you thought was dirty but you liked it and
feeling you loosen, lovely little legs parting, walking carefree on paths up hills and down to the sea we
never swam in.

so I thought it could work but,
no, back with bags at gatwick your dad put you back where
you thought you belonged and yes,
yes, your mama made it worse again
you look ill, she said; didn't you get any sun?