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Tuesday 16 September 2014

To the Lighthouse

“Why don’t we go to the faro?”
She said without waiting for answer
And briskly we walked the paseo
Past all the tripper trap chancers.

The sun was hot as hot could be,
The lighthouse worth more than a glance:
Time to stop by the sparkling sea?
But she had scented her chance ...

Past overpriced bars and cafes,
We now trudged over the dunes;
Past beaches for children then gays -
Would we stop anytime soon?

“Journey’s end,” she said with a screech,
“Here we are!” she cried with delight:
“Frying flesh on the nudist beach.
Feast your eyes on these wondrous sights!”

© Tim Scott
All rights reserved

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