Dusk on the Foreshore

No camera as the sun

Sets.  So I hold it all

In the mind of my eye

To capture some moments

For now.

 

The man in his overcoat

Who has lost his surfboard

And giving up the ghost

Rides away on a pushbike

In his Crombie and flaxen locks.

 

The dog trapped between

The spotlight strip of pink casino neon

And twisted glitter-studded topiary

Whilst the winning loser takes a fag break.

 

Ringed and grey plovers

Brent geese swim

And fly through the 

Smell of fried doughnuts

 

The cliff slips above

The middle-aged man

In sparkling white trainers

And he doesn’t even realise. ..

 

A street lamp flickers

As a couple are rearranged

For a brief pose by what they think

Is the actual sea

 

And the last pier train:

Catches foreshore walkers

Trying to lose themselves

Somewhere

 

In its pale headlights.

 

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Posted on February 3, 2013, in Horse racing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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