Didi

She drinks a little wine, brushes a crumb off carrion, wails for day to get bright, some places she sings for free, beyond the tip of Marrion, where you see the sea, she walks with head high, electric as a pylon, away from the tourist cries, their brains seized, by Terylene and Rayon, sex wine and sun cream, stilled by someone's dying, another lonely Dear John, she dreams of islands, looks for a candle to light, knows she'll carry on, loving darkness lifts her sight, different clothes to try on.