I get sick

When Im on the Pink-D.
I sit behind a man who wears what looks like an army flack jacket
With six earrings on the outer shell of his ear.
The flesh there is unlike the other ear. It's shiny and swollen.
I keep looking back to it. For it's a beacon that beckons me to
It's rocky shores. I get sick.
I look out the window and wonder what that ear is doing.
Looking like it needs a splash of disinfectant.
The rocking, the lulling, of the Pink-D unsettles my stomach
And I am lost at sea.
But that shining shell of an ear is the lighthouse tonight.
I'm going to look at it.
I'm going to throw up.
But's it's going to take me home.