On The Waterfront

I watched rain trickle water into folds,

Ripple, then diverge.

                        Only an armoury

Would posit murder by artistry.

Spears like long knives. Guns in cases

Ogled over by blonde four-year olds.

My lager eases to a yeasty full-stop.

A Nazi lights up for a smoke.

Racing-green Swastika -

The prison inked on his thumb.

As a Coca Cola can litters

(animate in the freehold bluster)

He tail a Seagulls stare.

                        The sky’s steely gallery.

Yet smoke beyond weaponry. Sterile, clean.