TRAINTON'S BOATYARD
Strong upon strong and wave upon
wave : I stand like dirt on this shoreline
of sand, assaulted by wind and spray.
I can never tell what is meant, not
the difference by on-shore and off-shore
breezes, though I guess it's so obvious
a definition that what I 'think' it means
is probably right. How much more clearly
can it be said? Next to me is a cluttered
old boatyard, strewn with aged hulks and
nothing worth anything, nor seaworthy
either. By the standards of today. You
can tell just by reading the names : No
one names their boat Betty Boop today.
Even the dark blue canvas tops on some
of these hulks have turned to a sort of
powder that blows off in these winds.
Off-shore or on, it just takes them away.
No matter : I stand in place just to make
challenge - of my own, I guess - to
whatever form of Nature storms Mankind
or threatens humans, or rips the heart out
of a tired old man, or hears me mutter,
Go ahead, I dare you!; Beneath a few of
these craft, propellers have fallen off
and are scattered, in dirt and mud and
sand and mud again. Lengths of rope,
old chromed horns with double-tubes,
a long strip of what was once, it seems,
a windscreen to someone's jaunty craft.
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