Sunday, July 24, 2005

Episode 4

After putting my boat to sea in the rain, I no longer wish to see my home again. My boat is my home now. Cold at night, hot during the day, but never unfaithful. I must leave that treacherous pit forever. New England seems like a good place in newspapers and stories. Deep underneath, there is a tangle of cold-heartedness and hatred. Below the surface there is a secret world of lies. I can't see the shore through the falling rain. I'm constantly on watch for ships. I would never be seen through the gray veil of constant rain. My small craft would be crushed under the solid steel hull of the ships that pass through the area. Shards of wood would be the only thing left of me were I to lose my focus in this constant pouring of water. The drops hitting my face run down my neck and under my rain slicker. I can't stop. I wouldn't want to stop. The wind is so strong from the south and the air is full of the smell of salt and seaweed. I can seek refuge in the cabin at night, when I anchor near Jonesport. But now, I want to feel the cold summer rain. I want to wash my mind in the cleansing motion of the waves. I gesture, "Hello," at those on board a tanker as I pass alongside. The ship looks as though it's been recently cast off and light, its waterline visible above the surface. As the rain becomes less intense, I can feel that hell slipping behind me forever. That's not to say that I may not reach a new one soon. Where am I going? I couldn't say. I brought all the money remaining in my account. When it's gone, that's it. I do not know if I must return to resume my life in the depths of loneliness. I would rather go down with my boat than face that menace again. But the sea is peaceful today. There are no fun-lovers out for joyrides on the water. I have only my thoughts right now and the idea that I will soon be in a new town, if only for a night or two.


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