The wind is my lover and the water that pivots beneath the sky above me could be any color for all the attention I'm paying it. For in the speed that whips me about in a circle, this world loses meaning. As my hair gains independence and my skin darts behind me in the afternoon heat and my limbs numb utterly to victorious speed, all my cares and leaden ties are brought to light and shown their insubstantiality; they are spat derisively into the dusk.
For the wind is my lover and he sates my hungers and visits with my youth and quiets my longing for sense with every velvet torrent that passes through my open hand.
And when the boat stops, I will break apart. Would that the wind would grasp me and pull me aft into the blackness beyond the shore.