A Boat called Gemini

Light of life grows ever dim

As many years pass by

A chance for love and peace so slim

So easy now to cry

~ Gemini Joe ~

am so happy with this little mobile home. I have wonderful neighbors and friends. I weaned myself from Scotch with O’Doul’s, a non-alcoholic beer substitute and spent more time in the shed working on my projects to keep my mind off drinking. When that didn’t work, I drove to the seashore. I always loved the ocean, and I admired the boats on the Great South Bay. It was easier to breathe the salty air and I loved watching the boats speed by during the summer.

As the temperature cooled, the owners pulled them out of the water for the winter. Some of them couldn’t afford the docking fees and a few weatherworn vessels sat abandoned in the trash. You know how I love to hunt for treasures. Well among the wrecks, I spotted an old sixteen-foot speedboat. It had no motor and a missing windshield. Most of the wood had rotted and there were no seats. To me, it was a potential yacht. I claimed it and hunted through the scrapyard for discarded boat parts and old motors. I knew plenty of warehouses owners from when I was working on the beaches. Calling on one more favor, my old friend, Louis, agreed to let me use his shop for the winter. Even though I wasn’t sure if I could build a working engine, I welcomed the challenge.

Every day, Bridget and I drove to the warehouse so I could work on the boat. The warehouse didn’t have heat, but I toughed it out, determined that the boat be seaworthy by summer.

Both of us felt the bite of cold that made our joints ache. At the end of the day, she went to sleep in her little bed while I sat in my chair.

“We’re getting old, girl,” I said. Bridget raised her head and wagged her tail.

Well, I finally did it. I fixed the boat and by the next spring. The gentle rocking of my boat soothed me. I basked in the sunshine and wore a white captain’s hat to shade my eyes. Even thought I was getting old and had gray hair, the ladies like me. They waved as I went by. I always love the beauty of the ocean. Sometimes I just sat on the boat, pondering life and writing poetry. I guess my artistic side emerged again. It had been years since I picked up a paintbrush, but now, I felt the need to express my emotions on canvas.

Fumes from the oil paints are replacing the smell of stale cigarettes in my trailer. I worked on two or three paintings at one time. There wasn’t too much room in the trailer, but I hung the canvases around the living room, some blocking the light from the windows.