Blue Rinse Matrons

A blue rinse matron with her blue rinse friend
Waft down a Maine coast village street.
Her cook hoves into view at the far end
On a course that will see these vessels meet.
Crows' nests register the closing ground,
The lesser craft readies a proper greeting,
But the capital ships wear slowly round
And give their sterns to the tender passing.
Their manoeuvre's not extraordinary,
Logs are full of similar altered courses
To avoid a beggar, mumbling loony
Or ruined friend who once shook bourses:
        Recall the St. Louis un-disembarked
        Standing east from Havana into the dark.