taken home

Imagine a day when someone takes you home from the sea, salt sun scorched, and you sleep and you are woken with watermelon to slake your thirst.

Remember that day when someone took you home from the sea, salt sun scorched, and you slept and you were woken with watermelon to slake your thirst.

Oh let me be your breakfast

Oh let me be your breakfast pastry
I’m slightly salt yet sweet, so tasty
I’ll be the froth upon your coffee
Your doughnut nibbled softly
Spread me jamly on your brioche
Or your plain bread if you’re not that posh
Let me be there, your strong builder’s tea,
As you start another day, with tea, and you, and me.

Cold chips

On my icy late way home, in the orange urban light, I drop my chips. Bag splits; chips spill. Fortunately, the pavement has been salted. Dino was less lucky. He dropped his fresh-shucked oysters on the freshly gritted hill.