Lord, oh Lord, 
take me to the open sea
where i can balance against the heel and roll 
of the steel deck covered with non-skid;
let me stand on the port bridge wing
in 20 knots of wind, a mug of hot coffee
brewed long enough ago to be as thick as tar,
strong enough to eat at the enamel from my teeth,
standing the evening watch in a sky so filled with stars
i feel the insignificance of me;
let me hear the gush of of the boilers steam,
the swish of the wave knifed into
by the blade of the bow
then rolling down the waterline;
let me hold the heavy, black binoculars up, 
looking for a contact hull-down on the horizon
i cannot see;
let me stand on the open bridge,
a cigarette dangling from my lip,
the drab olive green foul weather jacket collar
up, knocking the wind from my neck
as first light subtely takes the night from the sky.
Lord, oh Lord,
Take me to the open sea.