What would I be,
Absent the esteem of your eyes
                On me?
        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
      A can’t-quit-now-pouch?
  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.

—for nonner

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