Friday, August 7, 2015


Standing at the edge of the sea, oh great ship
rolling by, do you see me? I see you clearly,
but what is that pirate flag atop your ancient 
mast? How have I been transported; I thought 
this was the East River. I've stood here some
thousand times, Sutton Place and all the rest,
watching barges and tugs and the rich craft
of stockbroker millionaires go sidling by me.
Now, this? How is it come to pass, and here?
A few days ago, I was in a modern office, signing
a paper and getting a check  -  something about a
contract worth thousands and more. I haven't looked
back since and do not know a thing  -  yea, but now 
all is lost again. I am stranded on some other old 
and distant shore? I want new muscle, and more.
The faggy guy behind the desk  -  his name was, so
typical, Colebert Fenster,  -  said I could make millions 
with my words, and they could turn people's hearts
and maybe alter the world. Well, damn it all, they
did. Now  -  so changed  -  I'm stuck here watching
a fucking pirate ship go pumping down a river?
What? I want this all in replay, I wish to go 
backwards. again. (I know I should never have
shaken that limp-wristed peapod's hand at all).
Give me that desk job once more, at the museum.
I can preen like a girl and pretend I am rich.

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