This is where I'm from, "Aberdeen".
"The gray sea turns in its sleep,
disturbing seagulls from the green rock.
We watched the lung collapse.
The black drop and frothing of the toppled wave
looked out on the dark that goes to Norway.
We lay all night in an open boat that's
rocked by the harbor wall, listening to the tires
creak at the stone quay, trying to keep time
till the night fishers came in their ark,
in their lap of light.
The fat slap of waves, the waters sway, the water,
mullioned with light.
The sifting rain, italic rain, the smur
that drifted down for days, the sleet.
Your hair full of hail as if sown there.
In the damp sheets, we left each other sea gifts, watermarks,
long-lost now in all these years of the riptide swell and troll.
All night, the feeding storm backed up
the streets and houses.
In the morning, the sky was yellow, the frost ringing.
The gray sea turns in its sleep, disturbing seagulls
from the green rock."