employment

Employment


At the office by the docks where sailors go to get
a job, wretched people in drab jeans, I went there
dressed as always, in a striped business suit; they
thought I was a captain in need of a crew. I handed
my papers to the man at the desk, he leafed through
them, looked up and said; my man you’re seventy
five.” So what! I’m have been ship cook for fifty
years and can make Irish stew and Danish meatballs.

A whisper flew amongst the harbour dredge, “he’s
only an old cook,” their laughter had no mercy,
I had given the sea scum something to make them
feel less inferior, but only for a moment; till the clerk
said: “but we have a job for you on the Staten Island
ferry, starting tonight; knew it wasn’t true, adjusted
my tie walked out of the office ram rod straight, as
only an old sailor on his last job can do