ultimate dream

This is my ultimate dream. To be the master of my craft. Could be a house - that would be nice. But I want to have a boat. Could be the best car. But this is not me. An amazingly beautiful tanned body waiting in each port. And I will keep their names on a list in my computer, so when I pull into Belize and she is waiting on the docks waiving franticly at me, I look at my list to make sure that it is Carlita and not Rosa. Because both, Carlita and Rosa carry a knife in their purse and I would not want to end up as a shark bait. Just one of the many ports I dream about... At night with my boat ancored in the harbor, the warm breeze touching my face and the smell of the salt air and the feeling of the whisky going down my throat, I set across from her and she asks, "How long are you going to be here?". "I will be leaving with the morning tide." My next stop will be Costa Rica. I will winter over in Panama. And when I reach Jamaica I will make a stop. There, Gayon will be standing with a bunch of banana. And her black curly kinky hair smells like flowers. I pull up to the dock. She smiles with her pearly while teeth, that smile that can stop the next hurricane. I don't know...I always loved to stop in this port, the smell of ganja filtered in through the air and the beads of sweat rolling down her chest.....mmm, heaven.
The next morning the weather report directs me to stay there longer than my intentions were. Looking at my map I plot my next course, maybe Saint Thomas. I will meet up with friends there...