Regular Poem: The Day They Sell That Sailboat

The day they sell that sailboat
I’m gone.

I’m missing all my turns and heading
straight south until the road ends and then
taking another road

driving and driving
until I’m out of gas and then
just running
until I’m out
of air.

I’m collapsing in a field
five blocks from
my abandoned vehicle
and lying there
exhausted
until

I have the energy
to scream

and scream until
I don’t have the energy.

The day they sell that sailboat
I’m out.

I’m knocking over a convenience store
fleeing in a stolen Cutlass
Thelma and Louise-ing it
through the Southwest.

The day they sell that sailboat
I’m off.

I track the buyer
and seduce and abandon him
take that sailboat sailing
somewhere it’s never sailed before.
Forwarding address:
catch us if you can.

The day they sell that sailboat
I’m done.

I’m done with that fantasy
anyway.
Too bad.
Babe would’ve loved that sailboat.