Taking a Cruise

my wife Guinivere 

and i were trying

to decide on whether or not

we should leave

our home in England

and travel

across the ocean 

to the new world.

it had been a hard winter,

what with the bubonic plague

and shortage of

potatoes. we could use a get

out of town adventure.

but it was quite an expensive

trip,

so i told her no. much

to my surprise

she had already booked

us a cabin

on the Mayflower

for my birthday.

we had a nice room above

the waterline with a porthole

and a big bag of flour that we used

as a bed.

she had been selling chestnuts

for seven years

in the village,

and had saved up her shillings

just for this special

occasion. 

i thought she was going

to get me

a new pair of boots, or a shiny top

hat, but no. she gave us

this long-awaited honeymoon

cruise.

we were married at the age

of 12 and we were both 

twenty-one now.

we packed up our suitcases

and cruise clothes,

and whatever salted meat

we could carry and set sail.

i'd have to give the whole

trip a one star on Yelp.

between the smell, the rough

water, the wind and limited

bathing facilities, we both

couldn't wait for the trip to end.

we both got scurvy

and a few teeth fell out because

of eating hardtack for three

months on the ocean.

if i never see another fish again,

or hear the words ahoy

Matey, i'll be fine with that.

when we finally arrived

i took an arrow from an Indian

gentleman who was on the shore

with his friends.

i had my arm up in the air,

waving to them, but

they didn't seem too happy

about us showing up.

unfortunately the ship's doctor

put a leech on the wound and

it got infected, so i was of no

use in helping to build log

cabins and making clothes

out of squirrels and deer

we could catch. they started

calling me the Weak Link.

sadly Guinivere fell in love

with the Captain, this Smith

fellow.  He made himself

the Pastor, Mayor and the boss

of everyone, so i don't blame

her, plus he had this really big

musket, so there wasn't

much i could do.

i'm hoping to get a return trip

next summer

if we don't all die.

right now, as i write a letter

of complaint to our

travel agent,

i've got these itchy

red dots all over me and wishing

i had some Neosporin.