"mooring"

captain
and please take me home
i'd so like to be home,
the weather's been so bad lately
David said, he said to just keep still
(i was so excited) "keep still" he said
and never mind that silly old bird
that dirty bird "is much fight left me
i keel you good!"
he said
"480 volts!" he said

so please take me home
captain
i saw a man today
with flowers, with cigarettes
(for the lady, he said)
but the apartment was all locked up
he knocked once and,
in a questioning tone
-i thought he looked a little surprised-
retreated down the hallway
and ran home

so please take me home
captain
(oh captain my captain)
sweet misha
she brought me to my knees, misha
those ones i pray on
"i will not let you down" she said
(all i wanted was some help up)
but i was quiet, misha, she didn't expect it
i showed her a trick there and
i haven't seen her since
so i'm going home
(going to texas)


captain
where is your ship?
and what is your country?
your tongue is so foreign, so english,
it reminds me of the fairytales
when we were little, you and i,
and everyone sang in cartoon
(and all that violence!)

captain
where are we going?
it's growing dark maybe
we should leave soon
we have appointments at home
maybe it's too late to be decisive
and it's not so bad here
and all the excitement i've ever known
is right here with me
captain


"Mooring."

not important enough
for a category of my own
not trivial enough
to forget
I sit there
between your jokes
and your junk
part of you
but peripheral
a significant spare
I am 'Untitled'

Life, here's to an end.

It's something we joke about,

Death, with a friend

Yet how people suffer

When they've served their time.

We shall cry for each other

For the world turns its back,

Like the mechanics of your ever failing heart.

Un*ti"tled (?), a.

1.

Not titled; having no title, or appellation of dignity or distinction.

Spenser.

2.

Being without title or right; not entitled.

Shak.

 

© Webster 1913.

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