thinking again about

your face
how it reminds me of
my face

though you’re
you carry your dead

on your shoulders
while I carry mine

on my back
and if your load’s
too heavy, I tell you

it’s OK to breathe
it’s permissible

to sing while you’re sailing
you say who am I
to give such unwarranted advice

and I tell you
I know nothing about sailing

even which way the wind blows
my face being
numb to such things

as breezes
I could peel
the invisible mud from my face

but that would defeat the purpose
of always trying to sail
into the wind

stupidly not realising
it so frequently