Falmouth Town

The tap of tiptoes on wooden tiles
Brings smutty, dirty, lusty smiles,
My confidence flies, then breaks and baulks,
At lechers’ eyes out on their stalks.
In seedy clubs and bars galore,
The search is for a broken whore
Whose life revolves round empty lovers -
The sick wet ethanol breath of others -
Who spread their legs when hope is lost;
Desperation, fear, loneliness crossed.

The sweaty, beery stench of men
Hunting loose-legged Mary Magdelene -
Oh how it reeks, oh how it chokes!
My grimace merely does provoke
The hearty chuckles and groping hands
Which seek uncharted flesh-hid lands
They will not find. I will not let
A swine defile my morals yet.
Hunt down the bar, shoot down a beer -
Your porn-star Aphrodite is not yet here.

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