Double Take in Aldeburgh
You wouldn’t be seen dead in there, but I thought
I saw you – huge specs, hoopla earrings, your scrawl
of spiky hair – peering through the distorted glass
of the Cragg Sisters’ Teashop, perched like a stroppy owl.
I wish you were here, we could scratch our way
to Thorpeness under the gulled and genteel sky,
scorn tidy signs for dressed crab, sole, skate wings.
You’d tell me how pissed off you were to up and die
even though you took your time. Arsier
in death, you thinned yourself to yellow sticks
and I had to dig, get out and past all that. Now there
you are at the café door, larger than life and unapologetic,
clumping out in your agitprop boots, antisocial dog in tow.
Come with me now, let’s glare at the sea. Don’t go.