Poem: Aberdeen

My memories of Scotland's third city are almost all good. My first decent job was working offshore, and in Aberdeen the sun always seemed to shine on the incorruptible granite. It was cold in winter winds, but more welcoming to me than the wet, decaying streets of Glasgow that reeked of unemployment and self-doubt, streets which I had gladly fled. On the other hand, Aberdeen was stony soil for a person with an artistic temperament.

I did not tell my offshore colleagues I wrote poetry...

I wake with clear conscience.
Clear and solid the way to work
People of bright granite
Your city all a body wants
I'll go for a drink with my friends
Check the women, cruise the mat
the steady gaze of an honest day
hands dirty with pride
No imagination.
Satisfied.