A seaman told me once

            That to regret a voyage

            Was as bad as 

            Sinking with the ship

            I thought of him as we were

            Berthed, the each of us,

            Across our coffee,

            While the tidal current and a

            Rising chop rang in the 

            Doldrums

            So that setting sail 

            Held less allure

            Than a regurgitated 

            Wake

            Thank god the waiter

            Breezed right in 

            Before the truce had been destroyed

            And gave us pause

            To put our heads together and 

            Exchange a scent

            Memory’s a funny thing –

            Though never perfect 

            It can sometimes buoy

            By anchoring

            I paid the bill and

            And couldn’t tip the guy enough

            For helping us 

            To make our getaway