Orange under streetlamps, pink in the sun:
a swallowtail bobs and weaves
amongst these changeable flowers.
The politics is done on Twitter.
It’s elsewhere – and we’re sat
amongst remnants of born-again empires.
Unavoidable, the collared doves bleat
and sag the electricity wires.
It’s another place entirely –
an absolute concrete,
this beach, that ferry –
and what we’d call a myth.
