He was wiry and black 

            As the troughs between the waves that night

            And when he smiled

            Which was mostly all the time

            The teeth seemed comically white

            Because they were so few

            He introduced himself as ‘Joseph George’ –

            A name improbable as the 

            Blow that turned a placid harbour crossing

            Into something suddenly a thrill

            Our launch was slamming into every crest

            And when the clouds moved in

            The club’s lights in the distance

            Disappeared

            I feigned concern, which drew her close,

            And liked the way her fingers

            Clenched my hand

            Joseph reassured us and he had his boy –

            A skinny ten year old, if that –

            Pull up a tarp to cover

            Our belongings just in case it rained

            He struggled with a knot 

            But must have taken too much time

            Because his father slapped his face

            So hard he fell into our laps

            Then Mr. George himself finished the task

            My girlfriend would have stormed at him

            But couldn’t even stew

            She was so scared about the trip

            Although it wasn’t long before we docked

            Joseph, as we disembarked,

            Maybe fearing a reduction of his tip,

            Decided to explain that he was

            Merely trying to prepare his son, 

            Who sat unfazed astern,

            For what he’d find ahead:

            That life was tough

            Who was I to argue with 

            Such teeth?