As it's different, when you're weaned
on the stinging foam on chins and hair
Hearing the sighs of the sea when
you fall and no-one's there
as if to say, I'm here, but I won't help!
You dash stones in rage
that she simply swallows
and thanks you for with a
particularly ungrateful wave.
Spiders in bright buckets,
***** in between toes in rock pools
a dog-**** buried in the sand.
Worst, are the bat-eyed gulls
swooping on candy you
guarded from bigger kids
but no-one hides from gulls
and sweeping swallow a bag whole
one gulp, unremorseful,
one eye, always watching
stoney, black.

So now, I am older and
we are sun-bathing,
or rather, you are stretched out glossy
and smiling like a good haul
where I pick sand from my belly button
and shade my iPad from the sun.
I see two gulls, eyeing up your Pimms
cocking their heads in angular decision,
I offer them some Smoked Salmon,
they ******, you shout which
spooks the birds who fly
away, yet together, gliding parallel.
You storm away, stamping sand in
drinks and electrics alike
but I am anchored here
watching the gulls flying duo
tied from their throats
and then their stomachs.
The more they want to pull away,
their bodies pull them closer