Roll Up! Roll Up!
The harbour arm beckons us with its chorus line of lights.
A rainbow flag unfurls from a creaky crane.
Now let the show begin!
Candy pink limo full of popping prom girls stretches round the sweeping sands.
Teenage clubbers who carry a condom enter for free
while a barman juggles sunrise sling and sheets.
In from the wings fly paragliders through a sky of shimmering light
that Turner may have stroked.
Windsurfers soar cruise and spin glimpsing whites of the wind farms’ sails.
Christians raise their voices in the heat of the sandy afternoon
and their amen harmonises with a horny saxophone
playing to the people sipping chilled wine in the square.
A seashell lady gives you the nod when a fresh batch of fish is frying
or tea is being served at the Walpole Bay Hotel
on the geranium terrace at the top of the hill.
Backstage in the old town, local artists hum.
Staining glass moulding clay
wiring wrapping wreaths bouquets.
Beyond sandcastles she’s preparing to unveil
her house of installations and oils
hoping high speed trains will draw art lovers and the curious.
Curtains now on a flood of gold and streaky pinks
arching the old hugging couple on a bench.
He whispers in Polish of her beautiful eyes “masz piękne oczy” and they let the next bus go by.
31 March 2010