“Ah, that feel better now,” said the tramp, as if relaxed after a dump.
“I did it my way.”
A guru gargantuano wave lapped the side of their boat.
“She do it my way, too,” said the tramp.
“And she like it, she do, my way, too.”
A murmur of the mighty sea, pacific in her way, though this was our fair Atlantic, gurgling down a murmur drain, for the tramp had pulled the plug, or else, when the compass, overboard,
Pointy as it was, and one of those points, a talking point, popped the ocean’s hues.
Spam of Human Affection 
Leave a comment