Her brother’s car parked by the seafront
We left the beaten trail
Drove out past chalets sleeping
Where the map runs pale
Fingers by the heater
Her shoulder leans inside
Stopped beside ruined yacht club
Watching the high tide
A sudden hamlet without signposts
Directions at a cafe
Coastal tones, naval paintings
Scones and lemonade
The cawing of the seagulls
Echo of arcades
Heading back, misty low road
Watching the day fade.
Away from the walls again
Away from the clock card and the bell
Away from the red lights
Away from the platforms and the nights
Another car parked by the seafront
Take a left, the beaten trail
Drove out past chalets sleeping
Where the map runs pale
Lingers at my shoulder
The empty seat beside
Stopped behind ruined yacht club
Washed out like the tide
Hamlet without signposts
Recollections at the cafe
Coastal tones naval paintings
Waiting with lemonade
Sea defences lined with seagulls
A paper-thin parade
Looking back, on a low road
Watching the days fade.
Then back to the walls again
Then back to the clock card and the bell
Then back to the red lights
Then back to the platforms, the boxes, the nights
Wash over, the walls again.
