conch

a crusty old sailor
told me he lived on a mooring
with a shabby boat
near no name key
almost as good as a mailbox
though he needed a kayak on board
to get back & forth to shore
especially when the storms came
and they always did
least expecting

toilet pumping out

was a steady expense
cooking on board
required a lot of creativity
living alone with an acoustic guitar
and a few soggy books
wasn't paradise
but surely better
than a homeless shelter
in some mega city
or suburban wasteland

he kept an old bicycle

hidden in the mangroves
for his overland transport
or trip to the bus stop
or public library internet

of course none of this

was set in stone
he had to be nimble
with no expectations
somewhat immune to bug bites
and jellyfish
content in losing himself
in the prism of a sunset
skedaddling when necessary
following the glide of a pelican
the eyes of an osprey
the scrappy mind
of a turkey buzzard

--- e b bortz