Shore Poem by James Smith

Neither sea nor land
A temporary resting place
A sort of nomadic graveyard
And mill rolled into one.

Where the banal and the ugly
Slop around together
Occasionally transformed
To unwanted jewels of bright plastic.

Amid this vulgar motley
Strange aliens are sometimes found
A frozen starfish
A green odiferous crab.

They remind us that
this is border country
And the crossing may be fatal
For the unprepared of either side.