you can’t see it directly
the old ultraviolet
but you begin to notice it
on the prifferies, my brothers,
fashed blotches of purple
a tidge of sunset fray
malenky grotes on the chest and prosbc
for aught we stand remiss
this sunsight indivisible
a-summer-a-saulting
devotchkas on the strand
who tringled in cellothrong
inhale the scrooty grey
silicsand bags filled with silicsand
all grahzny in the slink oil
the stench of coconasties
so smelt it drowns out the tide
meanwhilst we age, o my brothers,
bobbing in the spume
me and a few droogled spongers
metastaphizing our freckles
with a bit of the old ultraviolet