At Sea

All night I rock, twist and turn.
I wish it was my baby who was on my mind.

Blame that two-week crossing of the Atlantic
By boat back in ’62, from England to Guyana,

When I learned to rock and roll effortlessly,
And the world, the whole liquid enterprise of it,

Seemed to be going some place, leaving me
Behind or in the middle of nowhere,

At a point that kept the horizon exactly
In the distance and brought dolphins to the side

Then sent them off, and saw whales dipping
And rising together, relocating an archipelago

Of sudden springs that died as suddenly
As begun, as they headed away, always away

From me dancing in reluctant sways, swivels
And spins on the spot, in a world of flux.