Oh I Do Like to Be

Seaside towns

are something wonderful,

some sort of thundering relic

of post-war Britain

or a throwback

to the spread

of the railways.

Even when it’s a stony beach

that’s covered in seaweed,

you can get your bucket and spade

and dig a grave to lay in,

or you can toss your coins

into claw machines

in amusement arcades,

promenade lazily along empty piers

or raise your hands

to greet the seagulls.

You can rummage for buried treasure

or scuba dive the cold waters

of the English Channel,

looking for sunken ships

or incoming immigrants

on a lifeboat.

You can even buy

some candyfloss

and get pink strings of sugar

stuck to your lips and teeth

or buy rock

with your name on

to take back home

again.

Fish and chips on the seafront,

or fireworks in July

while the sun sinks down

and falls asleep.

Holding hands

with the person you like

as the waves swell and break

and the tide comes in.