The name half worn under the green that’s gathered here
this bench sunned in love and rained in fear
and always facing outwards to the sea
because he loved it here
and I can see him striding out
in wellies, always, coat in winter,
hat in summer – got to protect
that bald patch from the rays,
and the dog that never came the first time
because there are too many smells here –
shit and creatures and the nasal semaphore
of other dogs that come and go –
and then him sitting in this spot,
unscrewing the flask,
taking a deep breath, a lung-clearer,
and always facing out towards the sea.
Just a quick stream of consciousness for Misky, who inspires with a twiglet.
