Low to mid January bereft hopped on a whim
to the fourth division seaside town
we used to visit when 'family' was still a thing
How the rain fell down decades
gone, not one thing had changed
same balcony same sunken park
Equipped with a disposable camera from
Secret Santa, plus a new iPod but
some things never change
same flag pub same church hall and
the same rain fell as I snapped
each blurry inconsequence
For old times I drifted round the
extensive concrete sea defences just
like on 70s mood stomps. Then
playing Springsteen on the internal radio
with a teenage philosophy cigarette
waiting for anything to begin
Trying to say, to what remained
of myself, there will be a resolution
to this latest erosion. Surely
promenades will be built to
protect your delicate coastlines
All day listening to recently re-
discovered Karen Dalton songs older than
Springsteen was back then and
on the shivering train home played
In a Station on repeat. Not my habit
but I was swimming in that sea like
a sailor seeking salvation
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