The last time I'd been to the dockside it was for a funeral. This time however it was for pleasure...or at least I thought it was. My swagger was mingled and disrupted as if balancing on the limb of some giant tree which swayed in the wind.
I'd been drunk for over a day, using the booze which was the only thing that actually kept me awake. It kept my head from pounding and my whistle wet. The docks were cold, wet and moldy as I'd left them. Nothing sounded aside from an occasional ship bell or the long toll of the bosain whistle. I needed neither rest nor relaxation did just the satisfying thrill of guzzling what ever take my fancy at the time. Wine stained my shirt. My hair hadn't been washed in days and the grit under my fingernails was almost a grouting betwixt a tiled floor. A seagull cried out. My sore eyes gazed upon it as it rest atop a bollard. It quirked his head at me as if to engage in some sort of conversation.
I lifted my wine bottle to my thin lips and took a long pull. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve I approached the bird only to alarm it. The gull flew away and I shook my fist at it cursing. My eyes grew heavy and my bottle was empty. I looked for reprieve.