Do you know what’s waiting a mile off the shoreline?
What ships drift without sonar or sense of when the fog will lift?
In this bunk port town with hobo flash lights burning the night
Flickering remnants of messages sent but left in floating glass
Wondering what she might have said in response if full disclosure policies
Had been implemented when concern was still in the harbor
Like a naked child bemusing herself over playthings oblivious
As Eve and America
And chucks the chum into the harbor with red peels straggling
Of an uncooked ready-made meal and all I needed was a hearth
And time to scintillate the structure to expose the content
As sweet and warm and comfort expounded upon lips like
The mist lifting over this town and vision extended for decades
Through a collection of mirrors that gather light permitting the direct
Observation of distant objects in her hands of my ship sailing into port
But the hour has past and the wind has severed the mast
Like a match stick cracked in a failed ignition attempt
And the harbor is in slumber and my vessel is asunder
Out here on this odyssey with no home to return to
A wet deck, a maelstrom in sway and I will wait for the sky to part
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