For Alex 

She’s a writer from Blackpool –

the words run right through her like rock –

they’re hard and they’re soft and they’re tough as they’re tender as fast as they’re funny and each has the power to light up the tower and some might stick in your teeth –

they’re a barrel of laughs on the beach –

each always with something beneath –

these words aren’t written in stone, sand and shingle, swept away each night by the tide –

they get right inside.