must be on slow time, bones ache, flesh weighs me down, symptoms of gravity and sleeplessness, silk night steals my dreams as the day my time.

driving here and there, highways lost and lonely, fading melancholy blues, i watch the sun rise drifting across an ocean. the waters are still and tranquil. we are siping on early morning coffees, the metallic bridge just zooms in the foreground like some impending structure of rusted decay, mans stamp over water, by passing nature. a few tiny boats cut a fine line across the glass surface. we talk a little about boating adventures, my sailing away days, adventures on the hawksbury, mored of jerusalem bay with no signs of life, no civilization save for a boat and some minor luxuries. i'd swim in the water, splash around like a character from the old italian movies from the fifties, a girl in a bikini would drink champagne and smoke as they watched. 

memories drift away, back to now. i'd like to sleep, just drift away but the day has only just begun. time is about to march. breath it in captain mission, snort it like a line of colombian cocaine. let the day engulf you in it's beautiful moments. 

part of me steals a boat, down near the little beaten up jetty, a small one with a good motor. it starts first time as i draw the anchor, place my hand on the throttle. wouldn't it just be prefect to burn everything and set sail north, start again, a new life. sigh. not this time.