Sunday, 19 February 2017

A day at the beach...

A day at the beach

Where are all the deckchairs for a shilling?
lines of striped relaxation
away from the factory line
the damp of the town
sitting on a rainbow
instead of grime
Where are the shoulder monkeys?
sharp teeth above and beneath
smile for the birdy
‘five bob please’
and the Punch and Judy
that policeman
the ghost
and the stick beaten baby
and the hurdy-gurdy
the swing boats
the sandcastles
the pots of tea on trays
sandy egg sandwiches
the nearly sunny days
skirts tucked into knickers
jump over the waves
the flannels and blazers
the heads in the newspaper lazers
the cricket bats
the film star sunglasses
grans in their best hats
knitted trunks round our arses
the headscarves and pearls
and see-through plastic sandals
the lumps of tar
old towels to surround us
the jellyfish
the starfish
tiny fish caught in a jar
the new-born babies
in pram shade oases
a cousin’s appendix scar
the betting slips
the quick dips
the coldest of seas
‘full of disease’
our nan said
and the donkeys
slowly padding along the beach
over and over
Doris and Clover
with hanging sad heads
and a sweet stick of rock
then home in the car
a push to get it going required
but back by ten o’clock
with the salt sweet seaweed air
and up at crack of dawn start
we came back tired
sand in our hair
from our day at the beach.

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