Page 64

By Jack Joseph Smith

Young Man And The Sea THE only thing WE CAN- do is what is Not THE SAME They were not what you call livid,, they were buldging from their eyes Ravid would be an easy way to talk about it. my Blood is coing out of the last of flesh offered to the sea and sun, so their skin is blistered, and comprention is mot a try Tongue's suncken, bobbing way from their cracked conoe's as I mystically saw it I'm drinking rum im the neighboorhood,, and doing cocane as fact as I cam, whem I cam And it is the Muriel boat lift,, and I own my own boat They came aboard,, and I lost my boat The clouds are big and pretty im Key West Pissed off as hell, I sware I looked up, And was told I'D HAVE A CHANCE for HEAVEN NOW

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Sea-battered bodies, rum, cocaine, and neighboorhood bravado make maritime vision feel both hallucinatory and self-destructive, framed by a handwritten call to do what is not the same.

The page binds sea disaster to intoxication and private ownership: battered bodies enter the speaker's boat, and the loss of the boat becomes a strange opening. The handwritten my before Blood intensifies the bodily identification, while the ending turns anger and looking up into a chance for heaven.

Claude

The Hemingway title is dragged into the Mariel boatlift: bodies are 'buldging from their eyes', 'their skin is blistered', and 'my Blood is coing out of the last of flesh offered / to the sea and sun'. The speaker narrates self-destruction from the inside -- 'drinking rum im the neighboorhood', 'doing cocane as fact as I cam' -- and ties dispossession to the migration, 'it is the Muriel boat lift', 'They came aboard,, / and I lost my boat'. Anger turns upward into the stacked handwritten benediction 'I'D HAVE A CHANCE / for / HEAVEN / NOW'. This reading remains provisional because the page is a partial model transcription with large unresolved handwritten additions.