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Peter E, Number 2




Pete thought of the boucan on those breezy warm islands south, the smell pulled you to the firepit, poulet grille charred in coals and rum by the barrel, you ate ,drank, and lazed the day away, yet here he was cold, tossing about in a bunk off the coast of Newfoundland heading back to that harbour of grace. He should have listened to Pikey and sailed the Happy Adventure back south. For now all he could do was dream of the warm swelter, the food, the tars and wonder if some day he would find it again. He turns over with the swell, and dreams of a lost love, of Shiela.

 

 



 

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