It's a mirage, I must be

here alone,

Just me and the haze that
hangs above the stone.
In the distance, bobbing out at
sea, a lone boat finding solidarity
with me.
Then suddenly, like a hero from
the war field,
Rising up over the hill, a Rastafarian-
he's been fishin'.
And little by little, they all appear
right next to me,
or very near, to experience all Brighton
has to give:
The sun, the beach and a lesson on how
to live.