Beautiful Sinbad

I am writing to you in 19 years and I am telling you I learned how to swim perfectly.

I am telling you that I can hold my breath underneath the thick coat of chlorine

without dreaming of your sea-monster-monologues coming to life.

You always said pools were haunted by a ghost of chlorine,

I am writing to ask if you are still haunted by the ghost of me.

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I am writing to you in 19 years and I am telling you another story,

but in this story I am no longer a pirate with a chipped tooth

but a grown sailor

on the other side of the sea,

who is writing to ask if you have grown

out of me.

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I am writing to tell you that I became an astronaut

and they sent me to Saturn

to count its rings.

I would pretend your moles

were constellations,

and I counted twelve of them.

I am writing to tell you I fell asleep

on The Saturn Space Ship,

and I dreamt of you and your moles.

I am writing to ask what planet you are on now,

so I can make sure there were really twelve.

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I am writing to tell you that they let me make a movie.

I littered the script with all my comedy,

everyone laughed.

When we told jokes blindfolded,

I promised you I would only peek

to see if the others were laughing.

I am writing to tell you I lied,

and I am writing to ask if you laughed.

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I am writing to you in 19 years to give you a list.

When we wrote lists we would sign them

Yours Truly.

This list is of all the names they have called me,

but these names are not like those names

that made my cheeks red and my nose runny,

these names are great white sharks of honesty.

I am writing to tell you they are calling me:

The Emperor of The Sea

Beautiful Sinbad

Purveyor of Space

Cosmic Columbus

Second Coming of Scorsese.

You may laugh and think I never stopped crying

about them calling me names,

but I am crying because they are calling me many names

but they are not calling me yours.

I am writing to ask if you are calling me yours.

I am writing so I can sign this and call myself

yours, truly.

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I am writing to you in 19 years to say that everything happened,

that I was a mean dog looking, in one life,

and a seagull in the other, looking,

trout in hoisted beak, looking,

seamstress of dreams, looking,

the greatest woman alive, looking.

I travelled through everything that happened,

looking

for the place where you happened

and I grew weary

and sick

and blue

with grief.

I am only writing to ask

if you were looking too.

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