On Worthing Pier

It was the nightclub
on Worthing Pier, she was inside
some windows/ in 1996/ I walked around
the decking, of the pier/ black lipstick/
the graffiti in the toilets, by the pier,
the condom machine,
she was sailing on the pier/ she was in a special,
unlit room/ over the ruins of swept-away villages
dusk-runs to Ferring and Littlehampton
I wanted to be in that room/ blonde hair black clothes/
glinting glass and mirrors/ they rode a chariot
pulled by dolphins, in the Brighton basements/
my brother wanted to ride it/ she was half sea
and half air/ all sun set/ eye contact, through the window/
I wanted to be in that room,
appreciating the darkness