Two men well acquainted

First time?
On a sailboat?
Two men, marlin diet, cracked skin, and questions.
Prod the foreigner,
in my hand sleeps a bongo drum
filled with air. My brother died
over the course of a year here,
where I called for hours
daily, by the minute, and met not one English ear.
To be a bath, the sea,
its brine, all its dwellers
stink in the bath–small ones
just, within the minute, able enough
to snap their fingers, jostle their cuffs.
What color was Chicago,
what color the bricks where hummed saxophones?

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~ by Jeremy on April 8, 2009.

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