Monday, January 9, 2017


Planking today I took five
put the cat on my chest
went somewhere else.
I slid arse first
down the shallow end
felt the paint ripple
around my heels
Butlin's blue
in a faded snap.
On golden sands
a paraglider hit the rocks, groaned
25 years before
a stream cut through the dunes
dad must have carried me across.
The beach's commodity was once itself,
the swirling sense you'd come to the edge of this universe
and would have to wait
for a new map to load up.
And on returning,
craning the neck,
avoiding snacks,
and the next man to fall from the sky.

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