He looks up and dislocates a gazing bird, now
Some fairness, a sickening gauze falls down
Suggesting he really did miss the haze, the rocks,
The sooty terns that winterly nested;
Folded in the battered face.
„Go back to the sea”, they say.
„Go find the waders, their
Cotton sweaters thick with weeds
And lipid slips, trips old oars…”
„Draw the blinds and blow your brains, kid,