Crab- Daily Object Writing- Feb 17

Feb 18th, 2010 | By admin | Category: Daily Writing

He’s wearing his hard hat, sideways across a beach with excavator arms up in the air. CTV eyes left and right. Hovering on the sand, heading for a pool of salty water, somewhere in the rocks, the world is inverted looking up at you from underneath, a mirror. The sound of the waves cracking on the beach are his radio, the songs changing every moment. Underwater the sounds are muted and dulled , peaceful. Not asking for much just tidbits,

The boys are out for a bit of fun, trawling the beach like a wolfpack, they know they’re not meant to remove anything from the beach- but who’s gonna stop ‘em. They look in the rock pools, feet sliding on slimy rocks oiled by seaweed and the salty sea that fills the air with ozonic atmosphere. A long stick pokes into corners of rockpools spearing the water trying to disturb Mr Resting Crab. He tries to blend in with the coloured rocks and look inconspicuous. He crawls under his bed like a naughty child as those boys pass by, but they don’t notice Now he’ll just get on with his business.

A restaurant in Richmond, crab on the menu, a crab seafood banquet, it’s hard to get to though. Cracking open those scrawny legs for a whisper of flesh, but it does explode with the taste of the shoreline. Seagulls hang in the air inside your mind as you’re transported back to being on a pier somewhere with fish and chips wrapped in white paper, throwing chips out for those rats of the air – the gulls, or throwing them into the ground and watching the football scrum develop and a greedy gobbling victor emerge, with that unforgiving look in his eye. Caw caw caw they go, with their perfect white feathers all bunched up, talking in territorial chatter saying this one’s mine stay away. They alll want crab but I’ve got none today.

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