fill a kettle, light the gas
fire up the elemental
be patient, but wary
your minute, personal tempest
simmers long
before it boils away in a blink
will it be whiskey or brandy
maybe some rum ...
you mix with your light-keeper’s brew

go slow, take your oblivion
one shot at a time
dose in hand
retire to your porthole
overlook
what is a lovely view
but only in good weather

this long night ...
Polaris is scrubbed out
beneath steel-wool clouds
in the sparks and soot
there is no seeing the way
alone, upon dark waves
persists
a single-minded yachtsman
his gliding and swinging ways
long lost upstream
his course now sodden and shortened

the gale-drunk seafarer knows
tack with economy
or be washed away in the rage
drowned in silent eddies
light-house keeper
why not open
your drop-splattered pane
call out and invite the journeyer in
be more than a glimpsed beacon
to a lost navigator
would he mistake the warmth
the energetic vibrato in your tones
for the sizzled warning
of a coming lightening strike

he's a little further
down-current
this rain-pelted mariner
haphazardly jettisoned
increasingly absorbed
in the turbulent flow
a waterlogged cork

berth-less, adrift
aquatic detritus

cast off ... and away
from the high-life at sea
a dead or mast-head

the difference ...
a question of time
the rising water level
still ... why not open your portal

call out the way

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website, a net for
air-borne
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bites
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