It is dead in that sound
Listing emptily
The voyage no longer missed
Only regretted, now graded
Memories flung like carnival spin art
Picked over by a pop eyed big beaked pasty freak
Coldly dishing out obit bits
The scales of that frigid fish with teeth
Flashing briefly
There was audacity then
Some kind of clarity?
No one was worthy of speaking on the telephone
What was the plot?