Hurricane Season

The quay is quiet after the day’s riotous weather. We wonder, stunned, about such fundamental

concepts as property. Suddenly how very strange it is to think that anyone would claim to own

a piece of Earth. Our ponderings give way to hunger, fatigue, and vertigo. Horizon

is florid like the face of our friend caressing whiskey. Birds scream in palm trees. Tackle on the boats knocks

as battered boats rock. We ended up here, and this day is ending—facts. We'll be alive tomorrow—conjecture.