Scarborough
By ralph
Sun, 08 Mar 2026
- 69 reads
1 comments
Scarborough
I’m flicking through seaside photos
of people I love. There are many.
In some, we are the perfect reason.
There are others where we’re not right.
Something crooked, perhaps cowardly.
It’s in our eyes. Always our hurt eyes.
Over years, images dissolve into liquidity.
The undertow takes us. As if badly skimmed
stone hearts into tired Scarborough waves.
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