Into a ditch
at port's end
crumpled hat
three worn pennies
Materials being offloaded
frustrated dockmen bend and lunge
hurriedly working chaos on the planks
No order to the mess
Fighting to keep
the solids and liquids flowing
arriving and leaving
your senses
Those hundred wheels turning
as you dizzy across
strange coorful box labels
tightlipped supervisors
A new wave of obligation
disappointment and empathy
emulsion of oil across water
logistical doubts
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