Richmond Sucks Less Than Drowning At Sea

I think I should have been a seafaring jackass instead of a hammer-
swinging jackass. My bag of cape cod potato chips told me so.
Or maybe it was Uncle Geezil. His beard smelled of sea salt
and cracked pepper. Maybe then the thousands striding outside
the window could be coral waving, and this tenement would be
a schooner passing through dark water at night.
I think I will go to the ocean, and sing to it something Geezil
sang to me once, because he said that all the drowned of the ocean
wish one day to return home. Busted fishermen and pirates,
captains and bosons. Maybe if I sing it right,
then all those sad thousands might stride up through the breakers
and come ashore.