I was born dead in the water.

The water, it filled and spilled from my lungs;

Washing out the decay that came from the everyday I had yet to live.

These spores, my spores, infected the sea as far as Tripoli,

Without my knowledge, without my consent.

So on I floated, gorged and bloated,

And when you found me you could not know I was “thee”,

Thee, who had infected the sea,

For I knew not myself.

And upon returning with you,

My eyes once blue, turned to the color of a split pea stew,

From whence I came, without glory nor fame;

I was no longer clean of that original sin, that which I tried to absolve with tonic like gin

For I had spent my dead life soaked in it, and would forever be cloaked in it.

And so I left you on the cliffs, while I floated out to sea screaming: “Oh, the sailor’s life is the life for me”.