(Day 19) Leaving Blackpool

Leaving Blackpool

All we could remember

Was the wind

Spitting in our face

To take it with us

Like a begging child.

Rarely the high street

With the shops swinging shut

Like ghosts

And the North Pier’s gates

In the wind

Despite the effort

Of the workmen.

Rarely the trams

Slipping on the tracks

And cars constantly

Doing at least 50

In a 30 mile zone.

Rarely the hotel

Which looked like the great wall

Of China

But had cracks in

The window,

Out of date wallpaper

And a cruise singer

That would have been

Too cheesy for Phoenix nights.

All we could remember

Was the half built Sainsburys

Outside the station

Lingering sketeal

Outside the station

Like  a pack of cards

Half built into a house

But always

Always the wind

Wrestling for your attention

Reeking of dropped suncream

Over the horizon of a child’s hair

Which for a moment

Looks like seagull crap

Black on the moon’s face. 

(Day 19 I was still away on. This is reflections upon leaving Blackpool. I didn't see
the prompt that day)