Memoir Of A Sea Captain
He sails alone.
In a ship with a hull full of holes
The Sea captain engages the journey’s onslaught.
He has spent weeks on this ship,
Bailing water out of a wooden bowl
With but a single sail.
Death’s body odor has been his lone, constant companion.
It could have come, could still come
At any moment.
He has slept.
But when he has slept
It has been with the restlessness of an infant.
He has eaten.
But when he has eaten,
He has conserved food like the soldier in the trench converses toilet paper.
All the while, he has spent every minute aware.
Aware that the little hull he sails across the sea,
Aware that this vessel, the single, small sinew which binds him to life,
Could fail at any moment.
Until he sees the shore, that is,
And he finally starts to believe that he might actually make it.
Thus is my autobiography as I approach
My final semester in college.