On My Boat

A word with you
on my boat while soft waves
lap not-so-mysteriously at your feet
we're in a French movie
about intercourse and theory
blue ribbons on the red crest
of a damp sail
a whole bunch of change
I'm going through you
copper turns green in salt water
keep your chin up
don't slip on the gorgeous
medicine into oblivion
with your chalk museum your
fainting spells and your backward glances
I'm all desirous of you
on the back streets of Brooklyn
my moods are confusing
even to me I grab the sky with pliers
to get back what I left behind.