When ordinary life sails away,
becomes a ship in the distance, then gone,
you can finally hear the sounds of the dock.
It creaks in the ebb and flow of waves,
the bump of mighty fish hidden
among the seaweed and the pilings.
Wind and salt have worn away the paint,
left you standing on bare and splintered wood.
You still have choices.
You can fall in love with the dock,
with studying the slivers of paint left behind
with waiting to see what happens next.
You can gather your breath and dive into the sea,
swimming hard, chasing the life that’s already left.
Or turn toward shore—
leave the ship, the dock,
walk into the town.
Buy a basket of bread and oranges
and keep walking till you
reach a new story.