A Beautiful Response

You could try the recycle boutique
To help make ends meet
Or some avocado on rye
Fresh coffees to go.
And where’s the man I passed near immigration?
Now a lady lounging on a bench
With all her worldly goods in a trolley nearby.  I smile:
Would you like a coffee?
“Piss off, you stupid cunt.”

And lost at sea in tinfoil and plastic
A gull with its guts spills out.

A golden serum on the wall behind claims
It will smooth out all the cracks and fissures and imperfections.

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Capitals

Eight letters.  The harbour is flanked by Scottish hills fired with independence.
Three Across.  New York scrapers barely scratch the low sky.  Four Down.  English seaside resort attracts film and media types looking to impress Hollywood critic.  Something, something, t.  The weather is everywhere and the winds carry ice, pollen, penguins and orcas.
Too far, too fast, and too soon.  On old shorelines people paddle in the footsteps of pioneers, browsing. Anagram.  From all over.
Coffee shop scrollers read all about trade agreements and recoil. They’re already knee deep in beans, grains, brain foods and thirteen dollar helpings of porridge oats.  Maybe a consolatory coffee-to-go for the wanderer parked outside wrapped up in strange looks.