Sunday, August 01, 2010

Crimson Tide

I was sitting on Exmouth Beach, largely surrounded by corpulent women in polyester shorts framing their sun-ravage cellulitis, and men in sleeveless tops emblazoned with a ‘wacky’ seaside thematic.  I was watching the cheap pleasure cruisers cutting swathes of estuary when I noticed a solitary red safety flag flapping despondently in the Devonshire zephyr.  Nobody seemed to notice it as they plunged into dangerous undertow from precipitous sandbanks.
I thought I’d give it a sense of purpose again.  Framing it against the clouds it almost looks like a standard for a communist ancien regime or a last tribute to a fallen revolutionary (life)guard.  All those years acting as a protective sentinel for dimwitted surf paddlers, and now for a momentary shutter second it became an emblem for a new world order.  Bless its scarlet heart beating under layers of wind-torn cotton.  It should be proud.

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