The Departure

Up before dawn, donning warm gear
Shuffling around, dismissing their fear
Queezy stomachs, four out of five
And the supplies, concisely contrived
They board the coach and leave fumes behind
Five silhouettes, all with one mind

In a dark and cold world, in the depths of the drink
Twenty-five pots are primed, tossed, then sink
Crustaceans scuttle the expanse of the floor
Sensing a feast, he stalks through the door
Lines cast, awaiting the bounty of trammel
Wet rot, rusted screws, and faded enamel

Two bites escape, make pepper chum
Prone, baked in the sun, dreaming of rum
Suck on a beer with a sandpaper gullet
Thrown starboard to port wrestling a mullet
Gaff the buoy, retrieve from the draft
Limits for all, all stowed in the aft

The prize has been gathered, head for the shore
Stare at the beach, remember ramblings of yore
A head full of acid, swimming in the black
The cure in my head, sand on my back
Now, we are hungry, we'll boil our meat
Stockpile our effects and make our retreat