the view from the porthole indicates smooth sailing,
but the inside of my cabin has been bumpy, sharp, and vexing.
sour-faced i stomp around, tongue ablaze, set off by the slightest:
an unmannerly citizen, an offensive dog-owner, an out-to-lunch driver.
this isn’t a hat i’m comfortable wearing.
it doesn’t flatter my face; makes me ugly, scared, and separate.
it stays aboard as i disembark today.
already the tide is hushing, and i feel sprinkles of a smile.
i think i’ll go scatter it on a sundae.