I am a lonely ship.

You see other ships, but I would tell you I am alone.

They don't talk to me, and I don't talk to them.

I am a lonely ship.

Things bump against my metal sides, and I hear them,

But the things don't hear me.

They swim away, silver and sweet, and shining.

Also, things do cling to my sides, so sometimes there is company;

but we don't speak, just glide-plunge ahead,

silently together.

So I'd say I'm not that alone,

but still.  Kind of alone.

Somewhat alone.

But with friends.

photo by Elias and Theresa Carlson.