The first voyage

My mind goes back
To a faraway place when I joined
My first ship as a mess-boy.
How sick I was, throwing up
My supper.
There was no reprieve
get on with your job, boy.
I did, but remember the ghastly
the smell of soap suds.
The ship was going to Baku
Then a part of the Soviet Union
And the black sea wasn’t black
But full of ice.
The town of Baku was sparse
On streetlight but safe
A kind solder followed us around
We drank white wine, and I threw up again.
Memories last long I never drink
White or sweet wines.