A work in progress

The waves refract
lightforms against
the foam ceiling and
airconditioner vents
defiantly entertaining
an otherwise vacant hour
yet feebily binding me
to the memories of a
distant life lived before
my hours became
my only commodity.

If his humanity
was apparent
I’d love to know
if he was ogling
the expanse from
his harbour view
or the shallower
waters in his reflection.