long stretch of sandy beach
in cold-weather Scotland
wait
last two weeks in July
we have a summer
Glasgow invasion
and huffy locals
soft and warm
golden sands
gallons of alcohol
most popular
towels
bathing
sleep
I pick my way past
with shovel in hand
cold hard ridges
lugworm beneath
baited hooks
bobbing dinghy
out in the bay
away and away
from the maddening crowd
bite on the line
flurry of activity
crash landing
sea creature
murdered by me
unforgiving deck
such piscatorial violence
not considered
by teenage brain
nor lugworm
writhing on hook
as line lowered again
boy soaks up sun
catching summer and supper
like generations before
even as factory ships
unload by the ton
summer meant
less clothes
more vitamin D
and any escape
from people
and people
oblivious on the beach
years go by
no dinghy
but still drifting
dreaming
floating
into memories
and scribbling
backwards in time
final tug on the line
Fraser
September 2024