message in a bottle

I swim in a sea of (in)humanity,
at times a gentle
whispering body
I lie still
facing skyward
a self-sacrifice to the sun god
floating, a feather in an updraft
I bob gently like my grandfather's fishing lure
on a hot, windless august afternoon

but the sea can be capricious, self-serving
driven by whim and fancy
a wind driven maelstrom
full of insatiable rage
hellbent on destruction
I'm scared and (e)motion sick
no fucking life jackets to be found
waves crash on the deck, but I have work to do...
rearranging deck chairs on the andrea gail