Out There

‘In the end bed,’ the nurse sighed,
and when J. arrived
he was visibly shaken.

Could this be the same old man
he had seen out earlier
on the beach.

Gone was that look of
wild knowingness,
replaced by an anxious frown.

‘You shouldn’t have come,’
he growled, not looking up.
‘It’s none of your business.’

‘I felt I ought to,’ said J.,
reaching in his pocket for a mint.
‘It was the least I could do.’

‘How I miss my old life,’ he replied.
‘The one I had earlier —out there,’
then he quietly closed his eyes.

All next day the gulls bombarded the roof,
as if searching for something,
and calling, calling.