Time spent on subscription Patching holes and tears Toeing the edge of anxiety Worried for the next crisis knee deep bucketing water Skin burning, getting taut. When I was pushed to sea There was fanfair and smiles Comfortable faces knowing Another was risking for all To return with tales so tall That they could live happily Never getting wet. I sit here now in a boat well built, Boat dry, and fishing lines dragging Sails mended and a roof for shade. Middle of a sea unknown but safe and well fed. Not expecting to trouble and toil so When all this beginned after all that I sit, alert and ready
But fuck. Theres NO WIND?!
Deep breath.
I tip my hat.
And wait.
For as long as I’m afloat I can move. And when the wind comes I’ll be water on glass.
Cameron Tayor 