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I Don't Want a Lover

I want a buccaneer; I want a pirate ship rocking
in gale force winds, I want
to plant my feet on deck and cry,
land ho
while the tallest mast you ever saw
bends over
in the piercing spray and salt.

Somebody get me goddam Vasco de Gama
so I can say,
Explore this. You looking for spice?

I'm talking the kind of fellow
who just thinking about him makes me feel good,
so good I think about him some more,
and on second thought keep finding him
the least resistible idea I ever had.

I want to sit with this man in a restaurant
and have absolutely no doubt that we have
the dirtiest minds in the room.

We'll split that scene and climb inside a cab
and I'm talking this guy
will tongue me all the way downtown,
right to the edge of the sea.
We'll stand and look out over the water, hips facing west,
turning east, until Vasco roars up, planks groaning
with Chinese silks, Madagascan cinnamon, French caramels,
and then we're gonna get on that heap and sail.


Cesca Janece Waterfield