Jonah’s Letter

I’m sailing to Tarshish as usual.

The air is thick,

Its walls are greyish white,

This desk light flickers intermittently.

Let me be plain:

Being good in your sort of way

Does not appeal to me.

Why would I go to Nineveh?

The parking’s diabolical

And the people there

Are not my type.

Some send out for Domino’s every night,

Most have no notion of eternity.

How could you care for them?

I have a feeling that you prefer them

Which doesn’t seem right.

They have no ear for music

And why should they need to hear my voice

When there’s always a catch to it?

No one likes me on this ship

But I’m indifferent.

I’d rather suffer as I want.

I’ve always loved the sea,

Its roiling creatures,

Molten pewter under malachite.