Falling stars upon the Caribbean
Heat baking down to my bones
Wishing for a spit of dry land &
Marooned with a lady of nice tones
Mirages dancing out on the water
Out on the flight deck for the breeze
Need to flesh out my humid mind
Fantasies alive out on the high seas
Waiting on a summer
Heat enough to bake my bones
Hell defined on earth
Surely we’ll need to atone
Looking to transmit the broken fragments
To leave nothing at the bottom of the pail
Set out – exposed in the baking dog day sun
Mis-remembered, but not quite a tragic fail
Captain Q 