Master of the Sea
He came rolling into my lunch café a man who had
spent his life on a restless deck of a fishing vessel,
the boss himself that must be obeyed.
Old now white wild white hair but was still a force
a loud voice used to shout expletives to the sea and
crew and his roaring laughter that of a grand voyager.
He was not alone his friend was with him a cook who
had suffered his rage when there was no fish the sea
becalmed and the sails were long johns in the breeze
The master fisherman ate and drank well his pale
companion, less so and when the big man became
too thunderous he quieted him down.
Later I encountered the old hero in the toilet, he
didn`t look so big then and was straining to piss,
just another old man with an enlarged prostate.