THE RED HEART
III The Great Lakes Suite
James
Reaney
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Grand Bend
It is the rutting season
At Grand Bend
And the young men and the women
Explode in each other’s arms
While no chaperones attend.
By this furious activity
Of the loin
No children are conceived
For they have avoided this.
While the sun
Sprays everyone with iodine
And old men sit
Upon the dirty beach
With great bellies big
Not with child
But with creamed asparagus.
And to somewhat more disgust
Someone has built a bottle of scent.
Crazily the cheap sweetness
Leaps through the air
Making some think of something decaying
And others of stenographers in the rain
And another to say giddily,
“How violent, at Grand Bend this year,
How violent the violets are!”
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