The Things I Want

Shiver me. I used to—no, I still do—

love pirates

The kerchief and gold hoop earring,

bang and flash

of the cannon. It is a pose

I suppose, an

ear for shanties, a sip of rum

to leech because

piracy goes on and on like the

sea. Don’t wave

goodbye to the waves. We need to ride

that ship with

bones and skull, the smile in my most

desperate

sleep. No, I have never met one and

doubt I ever

will nor pirate anything myself.

The things I

want are tropes.