I should have jumped overboard,
with my rubber raft
filled by lungs of despair,
that night when the tanker sailed close to the coast of Panama
paddled into the white line of a strand be free of the sea’s
constant slapping on the ship’s rusty hull
and sleep under a blanket of starlight.
Had cigarettes
and a lighter in a plastic bag,
but I hesitated too long,
fear of sharks,
and the coastline receded into a void.
Deflated the raft
but promised myself
come next port
I would get off
before I got to be a zombie.