HOW OFTEN I DREAM


V.

Can't move
wedged in the corner of the wheelhouse
heavy seas
foul weather gear
survival suited
then calm open water
on deck in the sun
making good time
logging hours at the wheel
if the captain's willing

nights rigging the spring lines
drinking beer still swaying on my feet
diesel smell of the engine room so clean you could
painting the hull suspended
in a bosun's chair
changing the zinc
the captain splicing lines
or showoff knots
one foot on the wheel
just for the hell of it

the low pay didn't bother me then
the SRO don't call it a hotel
where I stayed that year
the Mexicans one senorita I remember
but that's another story
wouldn't stay there again
it's gone now
liked that job but
almost winter winds
straight northerly frigid channel
pulling navaids
chipping ice off the deck
never be warm again
I thought