An abulia of currents
and all the clouds crying.
Pendulous tendrils of rain
in the distance, trembling
jellyfish of the sky.
Tiller towards trouble.
And what am I to do
but let my head lilt
with the wake of
each metal vessel
plowing along?
They fear no storm.
They don't feel this wind.
They don't even see me
so close to the water,
so tossed and iced and excited.
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