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.