The sailboat careened
Off one moored boat, then another,
By chance heading into shallow harbor,
And more moored boats…
But not deep open water.
Using my lone nautical phrase.
Said the captain,
An urban, street-wise, two-week sailor.
Whadya think I’m tryna do, genius?
But with the sail still up,
A dark-sky wind blew us, atilt,
Toward a sharp-rock breakwater.
You tryna kill us, come about,
I shouted again.
A final gust blew us over,
A few feet only from the rocks.
Mast over keel,
The dark side bottomed up,
The embarrassed underbelly,
Unseen ’til now…
Like a dark family secret,
That was never supposed to see the light of day.
Floating on its side, we pulled the boat
To a nearby beach…
The captain now triumphant,
Since he saw the center board
Had somewhere gone missing.