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.

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