Monday, December 22, 2014

AN OLD SAILOR

Sailing—
and

sailing, and 
sailing—until sunk

somewhere out there, 
halfway among—awful rat-

racers
and dash-it-all 

nighthawks
drunk at the diner—and halfway 

between slightly 
asleep and 

awake 
at the counter; that's where

he caught 
his first 

red weather tiger—

whom, rather
than holler when clutched, 

roared—or at least
seemed 

to roar 
absolutely—one single bold

red word,
which leapt forth confoundingly

in a foreign tongue 
from his 

dumb mouth—Sayonara!
Sayonara. A farewell 

maybe—to clinging; 
halfway between,

but definitely 
neither,

a good
goodbye—nor 

a decent—
see you later.

No comments:

Post a Comment

HOW DO YOU FEEL?