the sun seeps through my skull
charbroiling my brain
I stop putting sliced pineapple in my drinks
the sea is a mass of black otters
wearing sails on their feet
stiff white slippers
reggae dancing
in the belly of the boat
I watch through the glass
as the anchor trips
along the ocean floor
cartwheeling in the leafy algae
spinning its chain
through the thin shafts of light
in the end it turned out
I was an antenna to the world
I stood on the bow and held the rod
but with each shift the screen snowed
the static buzz
cracked my ear drums
I am on a boat in the bermuda triangle
my grey matter a feast fit for vultures
I smell pineapple salted by the sea
(1991)
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