At the change of watch
the news is simple:
Good morning.
I love you.
The wind's held the same.
I saw a strange bird
shortly after dawn . . .
And maybe a turtle -
We're below the border now.

We picked up Santa Monica
in early afternoon
to hear the news Stateside
where the radio says -

A boardroom decision
sees the shuttle go down
and U.S.-propped Marcos is ready
to fall as the Philippines
spill over in the streets of L.A.
where the hungry and homeless
are a city in themselves
and seven die bloody
on Interstate Five,
the freeway a killer
more deadly than the sea.

The wind is Northwest
we are running downwind
on a sailor's dream,
a fair breeze,
six knots foam the bow.
On the great heaving sigh
of a swell heading in
I hear a whale breathing,
this relation, great being,
returned to the sea where

I'm but an alien
attempting to tune in
and to keep my news simple:

Good Morning.
I love you.
The wind's held the same.


Jan Olsen