Hobbled in the port

Hobbled in the gritty beach

to the sea frontier

away from the city and the crooks and the sicks with lumps that it contains

it has dawned and the mouthpiece of the port is full of fish

the seller with the swatches is near by with cloth samples and not with expensive watches

the wave has thrown up a blob of material and the workers have put them in piles

the badge of the port policemen eager to plead the safety of the boats in terms of stealing rather than in terms of navigating

right opposite the port the block of flats in condominium which throws people out who come to you outright to ask ”what are you doing here on the port?”

someone who doesn’t use petroleum looks peculiar to them, whereas the prominent boat owners who overuse oil scathe the fish and all the rest biology of the sea

a fatuous man mimicries a duffer in drinking more of a magnum of wine

the chastisement though for drinking is small

but the penalty for polluting is serious at sea

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