Old Man intheDingy intheSea

Verse 1

And the old man and his blind followers,

Scavenged along the blotchy, blue beach,

finding under here and there, a dingy to spare,

Verse 2

and dragged their yellow, yet splotchy dingies

down to the water’s edge,

down at the beginning of the sea.

Verse 3

Climbed into their inflatable dingies,

as waves harassed by beleaguered

particles of foam, slapped them,

pulled them, pushed them out a wee.

Verse 4

The choir of the waves beat their drums,

forever in their ears, penetrating wax so thick,

it whistled when a breeze whipped up steam

into a stick,

Verse 5

floating in sleazy, cheesy cradles,

stone-faced, gripping rubber handles

from shore, like dots on the edge,

facing a glad but slowly,

rising sun, in icy-cold defeat.

Verse 6

The edge, unseen, was loud and fierce,

like Niagara Falls, it was hard to see. Would they

make it across the sea, would they make it across

the sea, back to from where they came, a curious and

closeted culture, back to from where they came.

Verse 7

I could not guess, I would not guess, they said the world

was flat back then, at best, no books, no teachers, no teeth,

no one would grin, fearing grim reaper at the bottom

of the falls, kept all but one or two from venturing

out, on water at the edge.

Verse 8

Or was it, Victoria Falls, a long, long, way away, past many

deserts, lush trees and bushes, deep down into the

dark motherlands of Africa. No not that one.

Verse 9

Or could it be, Angel Falls, cascading over Auyan-Tepui or

English spelling, Devil’s Mountain. No, not that one either.

It was not wide enough, with steamy clouds, bushy trees,

grassy knolls, and a placid lake, lapping its lips upon the land.

Verse 10

Or could it be Inga Falls, spilling into the Congo River,

wider than Niagara Falls. Not it either.

So many layers and levels I lose count,

the location west coast is not right.

Congo fever.

Verse 11

Or could it be Khone Falls, on the border

of the kingdom where the tanned people live,

between Laos and Cambodia, smack dab in the

bottom middle, too shallow for stained dingies,

whose cargo, wasted pink, then pale Europeans,

the countries from whence they came.

Verse 12

Perhaps, could it have been somewhere, east of the Americas,

with no land in between, maybe that’s where they were headed,

some so very green behind the ears, young male and female,

but mostly old men of the mighty sea. I do not know for sure.

Verse 13

A while ago, the speck of them, went out of sight, perhaps to

England, Spain or France, and the Netherlands,

notorious, seafarers for harboring their kind,

but this was a long, long time ago,

where book reading and hanging out was not allowed

and considered very unsafe.

Verse 14

What happened then, to Utopia became distopiatic,

so things have changed, since last I heard, and Idiocracy

never left, this movie foretold. Now too many believe,

the sea is flat, and those who sail beyond the point,

fall from the sea into a chasm as deep as inner earth,

Verse 15

or deep space at the bottom, or there is no bottom,

off to forever, Everland, no never to be seen again,

the old man in the dingy, who was in the sea.

Verse 16

“But why?” asks the orphaned duckling,

so blind since infancy.