outskirts
I wish I was a fisherman
Tumbling on the seas
Far away from dry land
And its bitter memories
They work with the rhythm of the sea and the sky, darting from pot to pot out there on the bay. They make their rounds from here to the open sea and then back again. Synchronized with the tides and a drive likely known for generations. Enviable. No question, doubt or wonder, they just do.
A steady diet of trying “something uncomfortable every day” will eventually place you at the edge of the earth and far removed from the gleam in her eye.
Whether the cost of the ticket was worth the ride might never be yours to know. Even at the end.
With light in my head
And you in my arms
Fisherman’s Blues
Mike Scott, Steve Wickham
The Waterboys
album: Fisherman’s Blues
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