Worlds Left Behind

January 9, 2011
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If I were a sailor, I do believe
Days, I might write love letters to my crew,
And lay down drunk nights, read them to the sea
As sleep of sleeps untied my boots, soaked through.
I should think I would sport a handsome stare
And cut my hair down to the very scalp
So men would sail the course I charted there
While drifting women wait lips in, hips out.
Clear weather and I’d turn into pure light
Too bright for mornings spent safe, in cover
Weighed down by anchors, this imagined life
Past oceans soaked with love letters, and over
A thousand dreams of worlds left behind
If I were a sailor, broken and blind.

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