Salty men stand huddled on the wharf
with shoulders hunched against the morning chill
and hands plunged deep in sandy pockets.
The zip and click of casting reels, icy puffs of breath,
and the shuffle of restless feet set the rhythm
of a fisherman’s lament, of sardines and shrimp,
of prostitutes and unpaid bills–a quiet song
of life exceeding ambition, an anthem of escape.