Cadet's Morning

A cock-eyed cap,
Peaky cheeks.

His breath makes him wretch.
His stomach lurches.
And his head's heavy as lead.
Last night's glasses sweat in the heat.
The air tastes salty with sea and sex.
And all around is the silky blue.

Exhausted he drags himself from the bowels of bed.

Wrapped in sheets he left a lady.
From tireless twinkles on a ballroom carpet to sweat-filmed sex with a ship engine's heartbeat.

They danced and danced.
At least that's the story he told.

Mythologised youth.
Buccaneering, daredevil pasts.
Made in memories that last.
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