Poetica Spontenaium 6/4/03

Another September spent waiting
For the slipstream to come and slip us away
Down the Gulf of Mexico and out past where
The yacht waits bobbing, so endlessly waiting
For its captain to come and go out again
Carrying small companions in her carry-on
Because that's what she does, grimly, with a smile,
She carries on carrying on, the light behind her eyes
Placed on pause until the the next little crisis
Blows painlessly out to sea.