Dreamy

I was the champagne guzzling pyjama wearing chauffeur of Hollywood Town, now exiled to a windswept East Anglian bolthole. I left the hotel               and went for a walk 

        Observe an incident by the old running

track, two packs of yelping youngsters

        having the time of their

       lives. Someone is tied

      to a pole. Shake my head

           from a safe

         distance and plod on,

       walking my invisible dog.

The menacing and booting done,

the youths disperse. Once I

could run, but all those years

            in my trailer,

            getting bloated on

            porridge.

Now they're on the beach

throwing contact clusters. Victim

seekers, thrill stalkers. 

A lurching goon approaches. Don't meet

his eye, walk on head bowed. But

         circled on the sand, a handful

of grapes aimed at my head. Then

         cannon engulfed and half

          Deaf forced into the sea, 

        where a giant wave

       drowns out a HELP

      wail and sucks me

     into its briny grasp.

(c. 2007)