The last time you saw the Captain
It was raining, a record you can’t remember
spun silver in the nightclub
and the future was a knife at your throat.
In the darkness her blinking skirt flashes
like a map of dying stars
Caught in the middle with rain
like being at a surprise party
for someone you don’t know,
you try to blend in by staying
close to the puddles.
The girl keeps being gone
every time you show up
thick and dripping on the driveway
with a prepared speech about
how the heart can turn its head
all the way around like an owl.
Nobody is meeting anyone tonight;
doesn’t matter how many amazing things you’re thinking,
she won’t know them at least until tomorrow,
and who knows after that.
Who knows, they might change the locks
or call you into the office to talk about a leak.
Either way you’ll have to explain--
either way there will be math
and the figuring out of floods.