Hull Revisited 1965 Poem by stephen west

At half past three I staggered out of The Criterion
As a newt and homeless, with all my money gone.
Hessle Road so busy, and always smelled of cod.
There stood the lollipop man, nine years older than god.
A big “stop” sign, a strong white coat trimmed electric blue.
I tugged his sleeve and asked him, “Should I go across with you? ”
Some people never joke at all. He must have thought me thick.
He murmered, “No. I’ll manage son. You see I’ve got this stick.”