Four Poems

The Item

The first shop didn’t have any,
so they referred me to another shop
about 1 km up the road (can’t miss it,
it’s got nets and shells and fishing shit
all over it), and they didn’t have any either,
but they said if I went a little farther north
and turned right at the lobster sculpture
at the foot of the dunefield
I could probably get some from Kev,
who sells them out of his van,
now he won’t sell them to everyone
but if you know how to apply the old oilcan
to his vanity then he is simply a pussycat,
so I found Kev’s mouldy Citroën Dispatch
and the man himself, to whom I addressed
...