I am on a wooden boat at night. Siobhan and I have a cabin. And I am on the lower deck trying to clean up with the leaf blower. At first it will not work, but I remember that once I add the attachment it won’t overheat; only then will it start to do the job.
Read moreOnce I’ve cleared the deck of pine needles, I go to the toilet. It is on the same level and the deck, an open plan space, has the toilet starboard side. At first I was going to sit down like I normally do, but Zach was there watching, so I stood and peed into the bowl instead.
He sits up high, looks down at me from his step ladder, not three yards away.
“Strange that they put all these vegetables around the toilet,” I say to him, as I survey the baskets of onions and potatoes that surround the bowl. ”It must be to hide the toilet.”
When done I go outside to look at the night sky. Karin is on the boat, I know, and I wonder how I will bump into her.
I could just knock on her door, directly. Or I could hang around until she comes out and we pass each other in the walkway. I will turn around as she passes by and will exclaim, “Karin!” Then we will look at each other, our older faces beginning to recognize each other. Despite my balding spot.
Karin is in room 23, I am sure of it and I could just knock.
I look out onto a black sea and there are fabulous waves, blue and white tipped against the moon. With strange creature patterns big enough to engulf the boat, they are meters high, with tentacles and tendrils.
“The boat sails smoothly, but how is it gliding so smooth?”
And the captain tells me, ”We’re on the canal alongside the sea so that we avoid the waves. That’s how come we are able to go so smoothly along. Otherwise the boat would get tossed around and we could drown.”
I see the brick barrier that separates us, it runs parallel to the shore but I want to be out there in the waves instead.
“Where are we?” I say. I think it is Africa, that we are coming down the south east coastline. And he tells me yes, but the country begins with an R, it’s a country I won’t recognize.
“Later, when we’re all sleeping we will join up with the sea and the waves, when they’ve died down a bit,” he says.
Ship of Fools, cropped, accredited to Hieronymus Bosch via Picryl
