Like all manatees, I suffer from chronic depression. And although nothing can cure the black sadness that permeates my soul, swimming in the waters of Sarasota past a finely crafted boat dock brings a ray of sunshine to my dreary existence. Although death is always on my mind, boats themselves are still a threat to my tedious life. Even though I could swim exceedingly fast if I wanted to, I usually prefer to swim in a slow, melancholy induced fog. As a result, I don’t notice those fanatical people’s deadly speeding through the waterways with their sharp spinning propeller blades- ready to cut me like the eternal sorrow I feel every day cuts my heart; but I digress.
Of the boat docks in Sarasota, the ones that make my life worth living are the ones with solid pilings anchoring them to the sea floor, and made of quality timber. Seeing such artisan work so securely fastened to the sea floor just speaks to me as a fellow artist. While I munch continuously on bland kelp, and consider the horror of my morbid bulk, I like to write deep poetry in my head. Let me read you one:
I sit in a dark kelp bed,
sad and alone,
but see a glimmer of light,
peaking through the murky waters.
An Ipe wooden frame,
that will last more than 25 years,
fastened with stainless steel screws,
that will resist rust,
unlike the growing rust inside me,
in my heart.
Art inspires art. A place to relax, many of the Sarasota boat docks that I visit look different from one another since they’re custom designed. They’re sturdy and well built, and will most likely outlast this gloomy poet. Even though the abhorrence I feel for life threatens to overwhelm me at times, I can’t help but think that the joy I seem to bring the people who see me from the shore might actually make me…happy?