took sight of the seafaring kind in a queue, in a cafe, that wound around tables and carried on the line out the door.
your small vessel body will travel with clothes and stitches and sails of material, mapping points in the tide that'll slide away as you move on unafraid.
your jumper hangs off your left side shoulder, or is that your port side shoulder that dips lower in the air than you starboard blade? i'm new to this, please stay and listen
Catamaran girl with a smile as white as wave tip breaks, what a sight you are on this flat sea lake of-a-queue in the height of summer, the air-con-is-broken- we could leave now and do a runner find a boat and paddle out, fix the rudder and raise the mast, have summer on an island and not look back.