Sunday, July 26, 2009


Drifting on my bed of poor
floating far away from shore
I check my motor in the air
a gentle breeze is all I care

It's sheets not made for me to sleep
devoted to the wind they keep
unfurling them to billow fast
I trim them to my clanking mast

A starboard gust attacks my sheet
knocking me right off my feet
I steady her to come about
quickly winching toward my route

I'm tacking hard and keeping course
taking on these winds of force
I blow right through a shipping lane
as slamming wakes destroy the main

It topples over for a crash
and in the water with a splash
I capsize quickly to the sea
saving what is left of me

Drifting on my bed of poor
now perched atop a cabin door
while gentle winds blow through my hair
searching for another fare.

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