By Gary Thompson
in memory of Joe Lewis, Juryrigger
Land is where the dog pees,
the crew rests their achy
sea legs, and the boat is hauled
for new bottom paint. Land is good.
But when it suddenly rises
beneath the bow, the depth alarm
screeches and the skipper skips
breathing, his eyes fixed
on numbers dropping
on the sounder, the crew bracing
for a crash. Wouldn’t it be good to stop
time? Better to go back
to safe water, that primordial deep
that was paradise. Better yet,
if our ancestors never crawled out of there,
scooted off on all fours, stood up
on two shaky feet. Best,
we never invented the boat?
Copyright Thompson 2020