At the first harbor

Close to the wave, taken

between the mesh of the net, he is lost

in the endless glance and the passions:

standing still, waiting for the creels to lower

At the second harbor

With no apparent purpose
like the slow returning undertow

though visibly annoyed
by the words not concerning her

the beautiful woman is
sitting at the Blue Sea bar

twisting the bluish smoke

of the cigarette.