He senses that the world is streaming
past on both sides of him, as if he
were on a fast ship crossing
an unexplored ocean. Days leave him
like old friends moving to a foreign
country, promising to write, to send
their addresses. Each night he forgets
the sun, but he is less easily
surprised than he once was.
When he looks back, he sees
tiny people waving to him.
The speed at which they disappear
makes him dizzy. When he looks
forward, he sees water. The horizon
is a blue eye slanting to the left.
He has no map. He looks in the mirror
to locate himself. There are lines
on his face like currents in the sea
carrying him through estuaries,
past islands, around continents.
There are black clouds. The mirror
reflects a storm. He is afraid.
He turns away from the mirror
and lies down. The sea grows calm.
He is bored by this constant sea.
He gets up, walks out on the deck.
There is a trail of moonlight
on the water. Surely tonight he will
meet a beautiful woman and make love
to her. The deck is deserted.
He hears the pulsing of the ship’s
motors. He tries not to look
at the moonlight on the water.
The woman he desires is on the ship
somewhere, but he cannot find her.
He goes from deck to deck, searching.
The ship moves into fog which sways
around him in voluptuous patterns.
The pulse of the ship’s motors
is stronger. He prowls through fog
with his long black cloak thrown
loosely over his shoulders. He knows
he is magnificent, irresistible
at last. The ship moves on
toward the iceberg directly ahead.
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