i told them not to wait for me, i wouldn't return for years
packed a compass and my father's watch, ignored my mother's tears
climbed aboard my masterpiece with a bag of just-hatched newts
hung them over the starboard side, donned my anti-salmon boots
six miles off the coast and drifting, wishing for a change in tides
my prison of hammered and painted wood, water grabbing at its sides
i'm ready with my funnelscope to find singing red-horn whales
-- i built myself a sailboat, but i forgot to bring the sails
(Some people were talking about not liking poetry on Twitter this morn so I thought I'd post this. It's from a magical realism-ish collection I wrote it back in 2004 for the final project in one of my classes. I was a Creative Writing major, dammit.)
