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His luck gone to weather,
He'd sway-ankle into port,
Silent, cold as wet leather,
His mind, a distant fort.
Why did he even bother
Stepping off the deck,
When love reached no farther
Than a slap around the neck.
The scent and sting of the lake
Blew through his every word
I slugged him like a fate
As the last wind stirred.
Hauling his duffel, my arms aching ---
From what seas had he come,
Why were they always breaking
On the shores of the only son?
