Port Of Morrow

How lovely a find: sky of blue and sea of green, a seascape. I’m a listing boat, for the thing carries every hope. We got sea legs and we’re off tonight…

When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain in the face of a hurricane west wind. How’d we get so far from the sun? With the gales my little boat was tossed. The captain grimaced, “Those are cliffs of rock ahead, if I’m not mistaken.”

You may notice certain things before you die: Land’s not a word we have to shout. I couldn’t speak, my hands reached for Martha’s. She’s shining the brass and I’m taking on water, what am I to do now? I’ve dodged bullets and even poisoned arrows, only to be felled by a wave of mutilation.

My life in an upturned boat, marooned on a cliff. At long last it’s crashed, it’s colossal mass has broken up into bits, what I know are the bitter mechanics of life. We’ll make a new ship. Christen it for the trip, with a toddler at the helm this time. Therein lies the denouement, you sail across port of morrow. Life is death is life.

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