Peter J. King

 

 

 

Cromer, Norfolk

We sit and eat our toasted teacakes in the rain
on Cromer pier.
No-one round us seems to find this strange —
but then they’re also sitting in the rain
to eat their scones and drink their teas
and cappucinos.

When we arrived, the tide was on the turn;
the beach is slowly reappearing,
and the sea’s incessant motion
is replaced by flat monotony of sand.
One neoprene-clad surfer paddles out
then skims back in to shore;
the nine-inch waves defeat him
every time.

There are no walkers on the cliffs
above the brightly painted bathing huts;
the weather’s driven them
to damp refreshments here.
We look out at a wind farm,
barely visible in shifting mist and drizzle.

I ask the waitress for more butter, please.

 

 

Peter J. King’s poetry, including translations from German and modern Greek, has been published in numerous journals; his latest collections are Adding Colours to the Chameleon (2016, Wisdom’s Bottom Press) and All What Larkin (2017, Albion Beatnik Press).

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