18 February 2009

I wrote this in the shower, actually.

This engine,
Once so strong it
carried me across great distances,
has failed,
And I sit adrift at sea,
in a tiny boat.

I've been here for days.
I huddle in the counterfeited warmth
Of blankets insufficient for multiple
Frigid Nights
On the sea.
I've nearly run out of all the things
that are supposed to keep me
Alive.

A cruise ship passed yesterday.
I called to it, to someone, anyone,
to help me,
Save me,
but no one heard.
Everyone was too busy dancing
in the ballroom,
Spending time with families,
Brothers, Sisters, Lovers.

And now, today, a small boat,
adorned like mine, drifted by.
Two people, a man and a woman,
Greeted me. I tried to gesture to them my need for help,
but my voice was gone from shouting at the cruise ship.
They gleefully waved back at me, in each other's arms,
and disappeared.

And I, who have been carried away
on a current I cannot control;
I, who have been separated, thrown aside
by these strange waters…
I have no choice, but to lay under these
blankets, as inadequate as my broken engine,
and wait until the morning never comes again.

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