sailing, and
sailing some more—
until finally
moored amid
the neon somewhere
downtown, among
nighthawks still-
drunk at the diner—
and halfway
between sleep
and awake at the counter,
that's where
he caught his last
red weather tiger,
whom, rather than holler
red weather tiger,
whom, rather than holler
when clutched,
roared with fury
roared with fury
his hot-breathed
rejoinder: a distinct
Sayonara!
A farewell,
thought the sailor,
to dithering, to clinging—
pitched halfway between
(but exquisitely
neither)
a permanent goodbye
and a blurry
see you later.
see you later.
