Wind across the quay-side Grit in my eyes
and fish in my nose White as whalebone
wheeling seagulls cry
Outside the bar in the high street
Blind fingers spin an accordion reel Shoes
and sedan wheels grudgingly keeping time
Fishing boat stretched out at low tide Dog
and a black man work
on the deck Bright as a bottle
sunlight skips wave to wave
Part of a map of somewhere Teases
my foot like a haunting dream Never so free
i'm lost in the seagulls' flight
Never so free i'm lost in the seagulls' flight