James McDermott

carry on leafy lane past that phone mast past country park where doggers like to come past posh school hiding the housing estate past holiday homes where the homeless squat past greasy spoon soon to be wetherspoons past chip shop where he battered his missus past amusements kids had fun burning down left at saint paul’s where that priest prayed on lads turn right at stream where little kate got killed and there’s the beach what brings you to norfolk

NORFOLK BUOYS

NORFOLK TOURISTS

norfolk tourists descend on the coast like pigeons to litter landscapes with corsa pulled caravans clapped out campers tesco bought tents norfolk tourists walk dogs and kids and gran past ten tiny tearooms in search of a costa

norfolk tourists scoff chips chomp rock shovel cockles dribble ice cream bellies bouncing like bags of two pences to spunk in the slots after crazy golf norfolk tourists beached in deck chairs finger phones or catherine cookson

norfolk tourists starfish splay on shingle their sun screened skin that spills from asos shirts and shorts sizzles in the sun like value bacon on their beachside barbies a bus shelter the norfolk boys at night beached on benches tread water talk fake laughter shake like boats’ failing engines they stare into rock pools of iphone light at their facebook friends’ reflections at tinder mermaids they will never catch at buried treasure they will never find to flood their heads to drown out their feeling like boarded up funfairs like popped beach balls like dropped ice creams like names unwritten in sand by someone on a stretch of beach the tide doesn’t reach

norfolk tourists sunburnt spent up pack up head home with postcards fridge magnets tea towels that say I went to norfolk and all I got was norfolk tourists