I'm in Scarborough and it's windy.

Seafront regeneration

It has worked; sandstone
emulates beach that we aren't walking on
and the benches look like boats.
Treat yoursel' love suggests a man
with little tubs of fish on offer,
before he sees the greasy paper bag I carry,
with a 60p donut cooling in it.

A man with a walking stick has icecream
smeared all over his top lip. Further up,
on the harbour wall, a woman lies in the recovery position
on decorative gravel that emulates pebbles.
The distant Fantasy Forest plays us four types of music
to ignore her by. Her friends
seem calm. The ambulance is silent both ways.