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7.30 a.m. and off to Mainland |
Passenger on the Water Taxi
Why
would a woman live alone on an island?
Hide
herself away from love and friends?
She’d
have to be a recluse, self-reliant, maybe
weird?
– Or have a very strong belief
in
being some sort of emerging artist?
Choose
one or all, it can’t be easy.
She
asks the same of herself – if she knew
she
would answer – though she can’t
imagine
anything other than island-life.
But I
can tell you. It’s the boat in flight
away
and back that holds her there:
her
relaxed slump, her trance-blank stare
don’t
reveal the involuntary rush of joy
flooding
her limbs as her eyes drink
up the
sea. in all its green blue-green moods
as if
once again she’s following the call
of
ancient memory like a migratory bird.
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