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THE
CAPTAIN
The
candlelight’s reflected in the glass
of
rum beside the captain’s weathered hands.
Where
does he go from here? Why,
towards death,
remembering
what he too well understands.
Like
who has oil-rights round East Timor seas,
who
is accounting for politicos—
There’s
always work if you don’t make a fuss:
ship
Filipino girls to Romeos.
He
knows that life is not a fairy tale;
the
unicorn and albatros are bunk.
He
croons a ditty and regrets that now
it
takes more than one bottle to get drunk.
Alan
Marshfield
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