He woke
Later than intended
Sunlight streamed
Through the trailer window

Rising
He pulled his boots
Over his socks
And clambered out

From the cliff edge
He saw most boats
Were still in the harbour
“That’s good,” he thought

He rushed back into the trailer
Pulled his pants on over the boots
Grabbed the bag with his gear
Made sure the trailer was secure

In the truck
He hoped for the worst
For some other bloke
So there’d be an open spot on a boat

It wasn’t a hope
He liked to hope
But he needed the work
And someone else had to lose out

It was either that
Or over to the cafe
And then the pub
To nurse whatever drink was before him

There was barely enough money for that
But even less to make the trailer
A place he wanted to spend
Any more than a restless night in