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sit charlie and me and his red ball

under the battleship slattern sky
on the green bench
thirty years and wonder why:
pain like bands o rain
spin off a hurricane
and no one is safe
the sugar ship stands out of the water for it delivered
and rust usual sunk, suns in open air
and remembers friends like flotsam
from the bilge expelled the shite and sewage
it is everyday a fight in the bay
to stand one’s self without slump & sway
who knew the biggest gift was merely
to not do one’s self in?
that blowfish, a carapace and
“none shall pass”
this is no way to live
like oysters dead in the bay
and thirty years of the same un-changed water
it’s bound to get old
this failure to be bold
the seek of fear elsewhere
to flee the fear in ribcages
for this and where the boldness gone
dried into growing old
 (
  l’audace
  l’audace
  toujours l’audace
 )
for other men of crossed arms and crossed wills
and Papillon doesn’t sail but the grind of the teeth
expel me from this sugar ship the cast adrift
for the mournings of thirty barnacling years
where bats beat wing backwards
on slender bendy branch 
and miss the grip
but i broke the news:
not so for a red-herring, father-less boy.
Eve said to me
 (
  You got the wrong Inferno, you fool
 )
you fool with the wrong page of the wrong book
these thirty years of leaves
and this dog knows your soul sits well away
to starve the whale of krill
urge the dolphin decide
now let us go to church my friend
you and i
spread out against the sky
to find ones no longer asking the how, when or why.
these thirty burning sugar ship years
we journeyed forth saw parasols
now let us go
you and i
to the seaside church where the many-headed god
removes barnacles the thirty years growth

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