What would I be,
Absent the esteem of your eyes
Nothing or, least if not less,
Strangely different, most probably:
A beastly jack-capped pirate with a jigsaw puzzle
In his mouth?
A gimp-legged, hound-chased miscreant casting orange
Thumbs to the south?
A rooftop pigeon-Yoda, mutely tucked
Into a nobody-looks-there, coo-hidden Quasimoto-slouch?
Or a drunken heart panhandling dimes
On the grassless corner into
Maybe a bottomless black hole in the ground;
Elsewise, an out-of-the-woods Shyamalan-sound;
Or Snorkey too-absurdly laid to the tracks,
Snookered and bound?
Heaven knows, at times,
I’ve felt those ways,
And, some days, came close to being
One or all,
A slide for a fall,
Just one unanswered star-horned call
And I could’ve missed you screaming
At four-a.m. in a fit and bawl…
Before we walk, we crawl,
Then, almost overnight, become a sassin’ know-it-all.
And Daddies don’t cry?
Oh, but they do—
They ugly-do, baby,
And to self a thousand times die.
This one has damn sure
Done enough of it lovin’ on you,
Happiness hung in that clarity of tear,
Somewhere and deep-in, my fearless dear.
Crawl, walk, trip and ask me again uptightly why…
I don’t know everything, you’re right—
But this much is true,
Inasmuch as I’ve wanted it for us both:
It’s you who’s taught me to fly;
If I’m to be a pirate,
Let me be a good one ‘cross your bright sky.