Water egress was the task at hand
Mike said he didn’t know why it was called egress
when it involved getting into water :
sliding down a rope from a helicopter
into a Zodiac inflatable ….
if not, the North Sea ….. and ….
That rubber oval … It was so Goddamn small
“ what is it son
.. I’m scared Sarge
scared, SCARED, you’re not allowed to be scared in the army
get down that fucking rope NOW.”
Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.
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