Twilit Pirates

This is the last iteration of the "pyrite twilight" combination that I can think of, but as always I can feel more combinations surging as close as my serotonin, and, like it, dammed back by my own numbness, but waiting there, staying as easy and close as words rhyming with each other. The completely def Marc McKee, the other night, mentioned a quote by Ben Harper, who said something like, "If you like the song on the album, you should have heard the one in my head," and that's kind of how my poetic obsession works--it's this charging toward the perfect combination of words that part of me believes really exists, on a horizon separated from me by the various razor wires conjured up by fear. But the poetry, like anything with love in its wiring, works better with the sense of effortlessness and infinite possibility that come with summer evenings.

That's the breed of evening outside right now, all weighted with the lightness of the wind itself, that doesn't carry any fragrance of crushed, fermenting leaves, but holds this spice like a pirate might raid a merchant ship for. It's a sweet night, and sweeter since I just discovered just how many versions of "Cheek to Cheek" are on ITunes. That's the song that was on the "English Patient" soundtrack, and I think at the end of "The Purple Rose of Cairo," that Woody Allen movie where Jeff Daniels plays a guy who comes down off of a movie screen to rescue Mia Farrow. The other song that the night brings to my memory is the one Johnny Depp sings at the end of the first "Pirates of the Caribbean," with his gold tooth winking and the steering wheel like the wooden corona of some antique star in his hands. I can't quite remember how it goes, but just thinking of the scene gives me that pirate kind of feeling. It's a good feeling to have, in the confines of one's own home, where there's no temptation to pillage or plunder.