Trickster Chappy
The august sun barks
and my nose carries a drop
of American mustard
preparing itself for winter
・ the nights are drawing in.
Professional yomping street legs
skirt around beggarly obstacles
as if on auto-cue.
By the Brighton Dome,
New Road
cosseted, comfortable gaggles of tourists
flick maps open and ponder, babble-lipped,
then notice
the shell suited and grizzled human statue
who stands
lager lop-sided,
grimace grinned,
roll up snagged fist on hip,
other hand
pointing at gun shoot angle
away from the sun and the shadow
cast in replica upon him
from the Max Miller statue.
He's a trickster cheeky chappy
But only I get the joke
“it's all clever stuff, no rubbish!”
his mute performance smiles.
Dan Belton 2010
