St. Tropez.
Apollo stepping-out
from the radiator-grille
of a Maserati sports saloon
wiped away the flies
in the dizzle-dazzle of that afternoon
perceived the dullness of the gold
and less than white reflections
in the boutique window
he paused
regrets
maybe a few
and distant thunder
edging forward
in the ice-cream queue
Stephen Brian Brady
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-blast-from-the-past/
