Read Time:3 Minute, 34 Second
WHAT BRIGHTON SAYS ON A SUMMER EVE
Brighton’s summer day is a pain polluted by a million visitors, pilgrims led by the sun, guided by the sea spreading her soul to lovers and the lovelorn. In the shadows, the homeless thrive, begging a penny. I crouch in a corner, smiling at a poster proclaiming our town a rainbow. The rainbow – promise: a flood will never destroy the world again. Darts of Brighton’s insensitivity hits bull’s eye— my chest. In the flood of passers-by, someone stops. Drops me a McDonald. I open the wrap. Cheap soggy burger. I hear harsh wails and a flap of winds. Seagulls descend from heaven. Attack me and peck at my meal, which I fling. I see Brighton’s pilgrims stare, smiling, as they take pictures. I walk away, hoping to be a light. I am only a witness to the dark. I am dark. Dead on another night.