On the boardwalk
the spent red daisy chain lights
firefly flicker.

Crestfallen beach umbrellas
droop limp as burst balloons.
The industrial-sized, kettle barbecues
list.

Ducks have reverted to football shapes.
Heads rotated
nifty as faucets redirected by a wrench.

My disturbing presence
sees beaks freed from feathers
like so many feet slid suddenly from slippers. 
Lake
and sky would be one
but the random disinterested undulation
of a streetlamps projecting hapless light.

Masts rise like abandoned wooden stakes
while the dark water makes skyrocket tails
of escaping green, yellow, red.

Back inside, Beryl, Marge and Cyril
press fingertips to buttons
worshipful as pilgrims.

If no-one were watching
they would kiss the holy relic,
plead for pokie exoneration.