The pants come down. Most look shamefaced, but tha Arthur McBride is not the least bit shy about showing off his equipment, oh no, he isn't. He grins in my direction. 'Not all that impressive, boyo

I fear that I am losing my mind. But really, it would not be such a precious thing to lose, as it only causes me pain.

I warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.

And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler?" "The Foresail?" "Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called..." ..."The Next Sail, Sir?" "Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.

We clear the harbor and the wind catches her sails and my beautiful ship leans over ever so gracefully, and her elegant bow cuts cleanly into the increasing chop of the waves. I take a deep breath and my chest expands and my heart starts thumping so strongly I fear the others might see it beat through the cloth of my jacket. I face the wind and my lips peel back from my teeth in a grin of pure joy.

I close my eyes, hoping to slip into the same dream again, but then that never happens, does it?

The sun in on the harbor, love, And I wish I could remain, For I know it will be some long, long time, Before I see you again.