The same place.
Rain. Paint on my sneakers.
In iron water
The slick shale studded with barnacles
Seaweed and quartz
And I'm back again.
Well, what is it this time?
Here's rancor: Confess it. More.
I spit in the black wind my vinegar
Acrid with failure.
Do I have to come this far
Always, with all that I have and always alone?
Hands in my sour pockets
The salt rain chilling my back
Under the flannel.
I know the lining.
I've borrowed this old coat before.
So what do I do?
I come back, I come back.
I walk on the flaking shale.
The Atlantic is icy and sweet.
Even in winter the gulls flap their big wings
And call over ocean water.