A
dog cried
somewhere
into the night. “They bring them here and abandon
them,” the captain said taking a sip of his coffee, his
cigarette mingling with the pine of summer in the air. He
looked out over the mountains that spread themselves
around us. The cry rang out again, tormented, moving
farther into the distance. The captain put out his
cigarette and stood up. “The saddest thing is that they
don’t understand they are on an island. They just walk
and walk trying to find the way back home.” He went down
into the boat leaving me alone under a lavender sky
sparkling with stars that I shared with that sad dog. A
light that shines only on the darkest of nights
illuminated the sillouhette of the mountains that stood
guard around our boat.
Everyone had gone to sleep long ago.
Never had I been so alone and so untormented by it.
I lay back and listened to the lapping of the water,
gentle against the boat and breated in the wet night air.
The dog cried again, closer now and then his voice was met
by the sound of a saxophone that shook the night with its
sorrow, and finally finding solace, the dog went silent.