Bombs away and salt rimmed tips at bay

I sing a coronach for you

You
And your tattered cape of pride

Bare it for me, petite lime wedge

Grant us all
A eulogy of who you were
And how you concocted a plea

One of trembling valor
To restrict another
And blending ice with love

Give us all
Your recipes
Of insecure bravery

Of fears reassured by confidence
Slurring autonomy at a wisdom-thirsty Margaritaville

Nodding at vultures swirling over decaying flesh

Is it true that libations are portals?
That this desert isn’t infinite and osmosis can be restored if I let it?
Enough!

Don’t sing fucking Billy Joel again
Don’t be so lachrymose
Don’t you sing your coronachs.

I want pirates winning battle
Not lilting wails dispensed by Sirens

I want jaunty Enya
Docking for good.

But back to Jimmy Buffet
Respirate

Drift with the “Parrot Heads”

Fine,
A cheeseburger ataraxy special
And a pint of grin too
Pay the check
‍
Tip the waitress and epiphany
‍
Kiss the tombstone
‍
Lay the cape down
‍
Just don’t abandon me, okay?
‍
I crumpled up the coronach
And yipped at fallen infrared
‍
Bombs away and salt rimmed tips at bay,
‍
Do pass me
So I may lower my flags
Sending no veterans to the perfectionist.
‍
For some way
Somehow
I’ve got it, here.