our black sails

Our vessel was a pearl wedge. Chrome accents lined the walkabout. The deck and sole were teak and holly; too expensive for such use; but here we were. Again. Land was long behind us; leagues and leagues. Waves continued to build and press us back toward the land where we belonged. Ray drew down the sails as night drew down. We knew the sea, the night; we knew the dead, too, and the myriad paths they took to settle in one's head. Young, brash, we took the boat; we took the night.

Stars strewn across the surface; we smiled at our distance from substance.

What was I here for? I wondered and searched. Could find nothing besides an infinite desire, a deep longing. Ray stared at me, his dark flesh one with the night; his eyes and teeth as strange and brilliant as the stars. I remembered a quart of rum. I remembered a languid promise. I remembered pulling lines and sending the sheets into the pale magnificence of the moon-swept air.

Ray shuttled about, his bulk not withstanding. He was rich—like you think of royalty as rich. Houses here and there; passports; a security force. But we were alone, here, on this pale vessel.

Green black scum towered overhead; a simulacrum of divinity; reaching weird clouds.

From Below: weird lights surged in soft currents.

We waited in-between for our answer.