The Great Brighton Novel - in verse.

(a work in progress)

Monday on the esplanade:
sea and sky are one big sheet of blue
and all the strollers, the crews
and cruisers, are still out to get laid.
Last night is gone, the Saturday
pullers and the pulled descend
from the highs of their dirty weekend
to the places where the players play.
Nick McLintock, tall and skinny,
thinks back last night to seeing Vinnie.

The party up in Seven Dials:
Vinnie standing by the fireplace
as Nick walks in. He sees his face,
the way his eyes look when he smiles,
the short blonde hair and sexy figure.
He’s smitten. At the table, chat
and chatter: Jerry’s bought a flat,
Mickey’s rich, Tom is such a ligger.
But Nick can only hear his heart
cracking as it breaks apart.

Love is too scary for tall dark Nick -
two years ago his lover died.
Since then it’s like he’s stopped inside.
He knows he shouldn’t be so tragic
but Nick has slept all alone
since Dominic passed away.
Grief is grief whether you’re straight or gay
and Nick’s heart has grown as cold as stone.
But seeing Vinnie by the fire
Nick blushes scarlet with desire.

Now on the esplanade he stops
and gazes at the sighing waves.
They seem to know that what he craves
isn’t the guys in fitted tops
showing off their sculpted abs,
or being cruised in pubs and clubs,
or ending up alone in Grubb’s,
or down on East Street where the cabs
pull in, when strangers, strangers stare
but love just isn’t anywhere.

What he craves is Vinnie. He flips
his mobile and sends a text
to Alexander, oversexed
and over forty. The sun dips
behind a cloud as Eubank’s Hummer
rolls on by. From Seven Dials
Alex checks his phone and smiles
and texts back Vinnie’s number.
The sun comes out again and Nick
makes the call that begins our Epic.