The pirate had eyes filled with jaguars,
Can jaguars swim?
And hands of a grasping nature. But no paddle,
no boat and no woman to make love to.
I said, are you a murderer?
He said no, but I might be.
I wished I had a jail in the garden to put him in.
He reclined like a comfortably muscled animal
into my roses.
Do you miss the ocean? I asked.
Are you wet? He said.
He smiled like a torn apart building, open and breezy.
If I had a limousine, he said,
it would be long and gliding.
I nodded, he was right, it would be.
There was a dot of blood on his neck
where he touched my rose bush.
He popped the tab on his illicit cola.
I said is it good? He replied no it’s bad
and I sipped it and it was.