Last Thoughts of a Whaler

real name
real face
real balls
all generally unimpressive
some more than others,
mostly the one that comes as a pair

real thoughts
real feelings
half-mad emotions
all generally unimpressive

actions,
stupidity,
an infinitely inexperienced moron
without a
toehold
who is not a whaler but happens to be
obsessed with whaling.
no wonder you were never snared…
he doesn’t know how to use his
harpoon.

this is generally unimpressive.

but if we live
a million miles away in our heads,
even then are we a million miles apart

not everyone, though, is lonely
not perpetually, anyway…
some find moments of respite, and it’s
about time
about time
i had mine

because i am a lover who has gone unloved.

but once i find it,
have it
for a little while,
then i can go back to loneliness
and wanting
and hermitage.
“just once,” i keep saying.
then i can be done with it.
but you never know until you try,
which is why
which is why
no one understood when i cried.

whales
are not oafish.
they are powerful.
too powerful for me.
i am whalefood, after all…
krill

so no more whaling for me.
no, not for awhile.
i think it is time now to troll gently
for fish
who can’t see very well.