Cousteau

Fifth grade
recess keep away,
run forever,
no one touches me,
- maybe Debbie and Donna,
sometimes Susan -
if I let them,
if I liked them.
I always loved Calypso,
the old Brit minesweeper
Jacques used to show me
his undersea world.
What kid was an
oceanographer,
marine biologist,
dreaming of seas and ports,
my folks said.
Nobody knew what to do.
Sister Mary Jane Elizabeth
wrote a nice note.
Books, books I read,
pages filled my head,
seeing it all through the bus window
on the long ride home
from Notre Dame,
happy,
alone,

in my blue world -

   currents swept me out

   drifted with Kon-Tiki,

   deep waters I swam

   with snorkels and tanks

   submersibles too,

   coming up for air

   slowly from the depths

   to avoid the bends,

   fought with predators

   a knife in my sheath,

   cut myself on coral reef

   avoiding a moray eel,

   running in white sand

   I lingered in Tahiti with Gauguin

   and worked on my tan,

   birds, mammals, fish

   every creature that lived

   in the sea

   but me

   I knew

   by name

   or sight

Oh, could I go back and
live that dream,
would I make your crew,
Monsieur Cousteau?


©Eusebeia Philos 2013