JUST UP, FROM
THE MARQUESAS
We bottled the rotgut oil like it
was a first-line gin. Fifteen of us,
aboard a drunken boat. Le bateau
ivre! Never mind the matter...
-
King Oblivion walks the plank.
We all cheered him on, the clown
with too many things always on
his mind : now sailing a fearsome
sea with a sordid wind appointed.
-
We are drunk. With envy? Joy?
Sailors' sarcasms? What else
should we report. He walked the
plan......and sank.
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