New lows [Am]

Also found on the lappie I submit the sort of thing you can only write when you have too much time on your hands. Two things written in a pub when rain stopped play in Padstow, Cornwall and then 3 haikus written at dinner while listening absolutely horrified to this appalling sloany couple who were so bad it was almost good....

The Holiday at One Forty
Speckled windbreakers, not with sunshine, but wet Cornish air
Close mist against the harbour
Grouping families look out from the wood decked pub
Breathing fabrics rustle round the glasses as passed glances check out…
… bags.…brollies….pumps….
Shall we eat more, drink? Where did he get those shorts?
We could have gone to Crete….
“The beer’s delivered by Arthur, he has a neck two foot wide,
He married a girl called Molly and would, he says, again”
Outside the seafood van glistens.
Is the white air thinning?
The brass lamp blinks
Straighten out the Goretex
Lift you glass and drink
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Territorial Fishings
The novelty postcard with stern Victorian dame says
“Arbeit macht frei!”
Not round here my loves
There ain’t much liberty hauling lobster pots
Paulie regrets the fore-arm tatts from summer, seen on every pull
Should have gone to Penrith with that girl from Trill
It’s a fiver a lobster or thirty five up that restaurant
So forgive I if I spit or hawk
If they clean it off right then what’s the harm?
Just local dressing for their fork
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3 Haikus for the Sloany Pony
Blonde hair, black eyebrows,
The Sloany Pony holds forth
*So* your daddy’s money
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She can talk and talk
And talk and talk and talk and
He thinks… just fuck me..
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Looking at the sweets
“Eat chocolate off my tum”
Cocoa rug munch ho!