The Atoll

Hector (cont.)
And data bears me out the submarine
Encountered odd confluence and no one thing
A seventh wave combined with tiny quakes
The one forced down your vessels rounded bow
The other rattled its short pointed stern
Same time you scraped a bommie near low tide
You were wrecked by whats best called force petit
Miguel
I had a secret hunch it was bad luck
Hector
I have a flaw distracted negligence
Two leaps years spent here make it bearable
Im not the person you shipped once to death
Riled me to ponder you duped me with ease
Arranged the meeting on those neutral docks