Fin

a wave slurps at a rock

just below the mini golf place

as it pulls away

its lips smack

an echo rises up

ruffles a nearby cormorant

he shakes it off

flexes his black biceps

up on the promenade

a potato legged child

skedaddles across concrete

its bucket hat flapping

the eyes of mother track progress

vacant dad deep in his phone

checking numbers in his hand

I walk through all this as if

it is a film set

the world is performing

as I stumble into shot

a director screeches

CUT

who let that idiot in here?

I climb the steps up 

to little tesco

console myself with

monster and oreos

still looking for a role

auditions start again tomorrow