Yes, we will stop here.

 

There is a tea-shop

A junk shop

Pet-food store

Wheel-clamps in the car-park

And pink frills in the take-away.

 

A lady takes eons

To find, cook, wrap fish.

Did the fish agree

To leave the shining sea?

 

It is not the tourist season.

Only the tramps one.

We get, nevertheless

Special rates from another biddy-body

In a caravanny booth

Selling  ice-creams

In the freezing wind.

 

We decide  -  yes!

We will follow this path

Keep OUT!     Mermaids,  Pirates,  Grockles!

Only   archeologists

With tripods and broomsticks are permitted!

 

We sit on lumpy tufts on the cliff-tops

While the day-long sun

Dithers on the sea, cochineal

And gulls do their bit

Skate-boarding  down the up-draughts

Nagging at each others mates

No respect for the post-card backdrop atall.

 

Who knows where/how one will sleep?

Who cares!

The sky is sort of wide here

And needs no timetable.

 

 

 

March 1991