Chris R-1-87

Image by Christine Renney

There’s shelter on the wharf inside the arcade
but you can stand at the end of the pier
and look out to the life through the slots
the old, craving for quiet nights with a glass
and the young, drawn to the lights
ardent high spirits
all on the same path
passing the gaps where
old newspapers and cardboard lie
children craving for ice cream
stains on the pavement
no salt sea air
no spirit can wash

There’s the bowl by the vending machine
craving for change and
you can watch the gulls
swooping ashore for stale bread
behind the hot dog stand
where young and old huddle
around silver steam
craving for warmth

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