Condition Three, Wartime Cruising
I was a good Buddhist jack tar,
Confident to sail this ocean of time alone,
All desire renounced and stowed away
Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade.
I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils,
Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders,
And other such threatening complications.
Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment,
The swells have made me dizzy
And my sea legs seem uncertain
As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber,
An unlucky smuggler caught in the act
Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny
And relieve me of command of my senses,
Lusting after that other salty wonder.
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