On the wall of the tidal pool a man is standing; staring up at me.
He is trapped, embarrassed; he knows I’ve seen him.
I know that the pebble-dash will be hurting his bare feet.
Between us, on the road, cars drone toward the dockyard.
I dip my head to release him from my gaze, lean to lift my glass.
Startled, a pigeon splatters a white exclamation mark onto the bleached deck.