Deckhand strips his oilskin coat down
Salt crust cracks on leather boots now
Kitchen clock ticks slow and heavy
Ferry horn blows low and steady
Steam rises from the whistle spout
He watches smoke rings curl about
No fare to count no road to chase
Just kettle breath in empty place
Radio plays static weather
Cabbies talk like birds of feather
He knows each tide each current turn
Now watches water boil and burn
Steam rises from the whistle spout
He watches smoke rings curl about
No fare to count no road to chase
Just kettle breath in empty place
Timetable pinned on peeling paint
Coffee stains like island saints
Passenger laughs fade in his ear
Kettle sings so sharp and clear
Steam rises from the whistle spout
He watches smoke rings curl about
No fare to count no road to chase
Just kettle breath in empty place
Taxi meter frozen silent
Night fare memories violent
He drove the streets he knew the game
Now kitchen walls know his name
Old hands shake on ceramic rim
Horizon blurred and growing dim
Twenty years of wave and wake
How much steam can one man take
Dawn breaks cold on harbor water
Daughter calls him Papa father
He pours the tea with steady hand
Ferry whistle blows on land
Steam rises from the whistle spout
He watches smoke rings curl about
No fare to count no road to chase
Just kettle breath in empty place
Steam rises from the whistle spout
He watches smoke rings curl about
Kettle clicks to quiet rest
Morning shift begins the test
