By: David Hutt

velvet benches and heroin dreams,
men with backpacks filled with life
slung onto shoulders and walked though streets
dragging beards and feet
and clumping along with desperation
down to the beach
to watch the waves rushing up the shore
with nothing but pure pure hope
of getting a little further each day
sat on cold round pebbles
throwing pebbles at other pebbles
with the sun failing
and the first-world stars coming out.