Perhaps you needed the early moon
or the hangover of the storm
or couldn't leave your punctured bike
under sheets of tarpaulin
Perhaps you were meeting with God,
howling the hills for a love,
who gave the sea the definition it deserved
Perhaps you were just content with an open plan_
Your bathing bones kidnapped by the cold.
Perhaps it was the ring pull of cans of brew,
which I've never seen you sink
or that elusive drug deal
in the sober precinct.
Or perhaps, under the shelter...
you were let down by the system.
