They stood in the conning tower, bobbing.
Luminescent squid draped the aft, glowing.
"Depth report," he asked, a curious tone.
"Asleep sir," replied the earnest clipboard.
'How long?"
"Since running silent sir."
"Data report."
"One long dream sir."
"Content?"
"An ironing board, eight murmurs, a foxtrot lesson."
They began to roll in the new wind.
"Signifiers?"
"Murmur filters inconclusive. Dance sequence
apparently a learning experience."
"Ironing board?"
"You sir, the board is you."
A gull landed on his shoulder, cocking a bleached head.
1 comment:
"You sir, the board is you."
In the last mess, how easy it was to forget.
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