The view from Arberry Meadow always sucked.
I never had the privilege of seeing faces on the water,
Only black dots caught in the explosion of the morning horizon.
But to them, I knew I was more than just a shadow.
To them, I was an actress, an entertainer
That wrapped her mind around silly illusions
Of amorous passengers gliding swiftly towards the cove,
Cutting into the blue with their deft arms and strong gazes
Locked on the accented figment of their wildest dreams...
Surely they could tell that I focused on them and
Envisioned so well the greatest details of their lives.
They liked the attention I gave them; it was a distraction
From the thought of their wives, inside,
Brooding over the awful weather with their bored, fitful selves.
My face was sharp in the passengers' minds; and doubtless
I was gorgeous...Hell, I'd want myself, the way they saw me.
But that was just it: they saw what they chose to see and
Never once did they jump off the ship.
Thinking back, I probably should have worked out more.
Maybe than I could've made it out of the cove.
Imagine a girl, crazy, clawing at the side of the boat,
"Save me, save me!" She'd wrestle and grasp,
Waiting impatiently for her man to pull her to safety.
Then she'd look out on the water and the cove and
Think that everything is so small. He's even smaller
Than she imagined, and the cruise ship is just a work boat.
They're working men and the way they look at her,
She feels dirty and at little expense to them.
"I want to go home," she'd say. "I hate the water,
I hate this dinghy and I miss the meadow."
