Open Water

No one can stop the pirates. No nation, no organization
capable of flying into space like a burst of temper,
or to bottle rushing water into hydroelectric dams.

No one can stop the pirates operating on the Indian Ocean
from raiding pleasure boats and cargo ships
with almost reckless abandon.

Guided missiles and drone aircraft routinely wreck
sleepy towns and military installations
pinpointed from thousands of miles away.

But no one can stop the pirates from their boldness.
No one capture and execute the romantic spirit.
It will always persist like a threat against staid corporations

and certainty, like the ominous crest of dark waves
with the unharnessed potential of sharks.
No one can stop the pirates, no nation or conglomerate,

no one can stop them from picking off goats and lambs
in the equatorial currents, no one stop
their audacity, their brash adolescence, no one on earth.

 

 

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