Romancing sand-dancer,
I’m on the pirate shore, hand in hand
fate and infatuation.
Your love burns in the residue of rainwater,
of the isle storms and looming letters.
They all spell out why I’m here, but I,
I want to know my destination.
Inertia plunging us both overboard and
dragging behind in a stream of fairy dust,
while I desperately lick the lips
of every man plank walking and bottom bound.
Now golden in sunset, don’t tip me over
as I can tip this thieving sea
into your open, scar-streaked arms.
[…where only I belong]
