A Bunch O Random Nonsense

The crows here are as big as chickens.

On my Ipod I start Luther Vandross’s version of ‘Superstar’ my favourite one so far,
I tell myself I’ll walk to the end of the bay and back,
then brave a dip in the sea.

Broken bits of coral strew the bleached sand,
little clams are uncovered each time a waves breaks,
they dig their way back into the sand, little sucking motions.

A man lays fast asleep in the hammock, a couple sit engrossed in a board-game.
A little boy is planted in the sand, wet-suit clad, building a sandcastle.
Hendra, the sweet-faced waiter, makes his way down the beach with a tray of chilled towels, flashing his dimpled charm.

I hurl myself into the water, it is clearest today,
like swimming in salted tap-water.

I try and banish the washed up jellyfish that I spied earlier
from my mind and flip onto my back

The sky is a deep blue, clear of clouds; three Brahminy Kites
soar in lazy undulating circles
I swim until the tide brings in a band of brown, bits of water logged burnt tree,
maybe one felled from the thunderstorm yesterday.

Sea-bugs start to sting my skin and I propel myself back towards the clear water.