News about the project hit us, groggy,
like a tidal wave, – keeling us over.
He’d flake out again, the son of a gun,
leaving us all floundering,
at a loose end.
Cap, leading light of the team,
assessed the situation,
the cut of her jib posh perhaps,
but always decisive, pragmatic–
she knew the ropes.
“Time to wipe the slate,” she declared,
“Give him a wide berth, chart a new course.
The contract wasn’t all sewn up, anyway,
we need to batten down the hatches,
all hands on deck.”
But before we could react,
the client, a notorious loose cannon,
blew a gasket, threatened lawsuits,
yelling we’d have the devil to pay!
We were taken aback, caught between
the devil and the deep blue sea,
forced to choose between legal battles
and walking the financial plank.
This venture,
meant to finally make ends meet,
was turning into an albatross
around our necks.
The First Mate told us to pipe down,
tried to take the wind out of his sails
with legal jargon and promises of amends.
But the client was not on board,
threatened to lower the boom.
Our only option was to turn the ship around,
face the bitter end,
and hope for leniency.
Thus, we were dead in the water,
watching our dreams sink,
accepting it wouldn’t be plain sailing,
not now, not ever.
“Well,” he sighed,
offering a swig of something potent,
“Down the hatch.
Time to hit the deck,
and get on the right tack, again.”
Someone asked, as the crow flies,
how far back we were.
He just laughed, “Beyond the horizon.
Just start with a clean slate,
and try to keep on an even keel this time.”
© 1987, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.