i am beginning to see the ships--
like phantoms, they sail in&out;
of the ports they choose,
only to leave as they please
[disappearing just as mysteriously & mischievously as they arrived],
leaving dents in the worn docks they rail into.

& i am as worn as one of these;
just as covered in filth &
weak to the sea winds &
sinking in the high tides
[& looking for places to hoist anchors away]--

visit me at sea someday,
as more than one who stops at the pier to drop off another's shipment,
but as one who desires to stay for holiday
[a few weeks, a month, perhaps]
before going off into the sunset alongside the wavering seagulls
toward a Light at the edge of the ocean

*for at harbor,
there is always refuge.