Walkin by the stinkport with a cuppla dogs
wondering about the waves and what was down there
in the deep dark blue 
another dump perhaps,
old tyres and rusty wrecks, 
and plastic bags and crappy broken things
from discarded lives
that no one wants no more.
And I marvel, as I stumble over another turd,
how dogs can do that, 
whenever they feel the urge 
just squat and squeeze and shit,
for I know I could not.
The brown grey waves roll in,
And I wander on, wondering,
Walkin by the stinkport with a cuppla dogs.