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A poem by Pete Faulkner, illustrated by Scooters at dawn.

 

Off Season

The funfair is boarded up.
That's all Folks pricked out
in red and gold bubble lettering
on huge bumpy metal screens
round the Crazy Canyon Roller Ride.

Mario's Ice Cream Paradise
sells seven
of fiftytwo advertised flavours.

Spittle of seaspray
flicks the greystone fronts
of small hotels named after
novels by Scott
or obscure battles
in Victoria's South African War.

A metal footbridge gnawed by rust
crosses the weed-scattered railway line.

Tammy and Julie, chamber maids
at the St Ronan's Well Family Hotel, 

walk past the closed-down Wax Museum
and past the pebble-dash shelter
where old ladies in plastic rainhats
hug ratty dogs in tartan coats,
towards rock pools, metal railings
and seaweed ribboned to tom black lace.

Traces of scummy foam 
lick their feet.
Tammy skips "Singing in the Rain"
over salty glitter
spat onto concrete
then sucked back into 

the dark winter sea.
Julie swings
on the rusty novelty telescope.
They both decide
to stretch their lunch hour.

Pete Faulkner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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