Picaroon

Scouting the sun     thin clouds threadbare vests     barely to cover the horizon.     the heat or the day, canine,     a hot tongue's intensily     splashing yr face.     The docks are quiet,     prawn trawlers unloading gear     gar fish at the surface of the water     echoing little fins like     tiny waves green     into the shallows.     Bubbles anchor the lagoon    -     changing rivulets into sand     stone walls numbered in shards of glass     trade universal currency     but, beware, the proprietor     cobblestones up to his door,     a candle in the window-stoop,     a creeking gate opened as an afterthought.     Come the picaroon.     Spanish adventurer     lesser known rogue, thief     a smile like piano keys     huevos sent back.     I've seen the parfumerie     the snake pit,     mongoose burrowing into the hills     after serpentine fer-de-lance,     want bigger things waves can't splash away,     scrawled slogans to turn     the human tide.     A bottle sits menacingly on the table    -     a universe on its own,     imagine her little water droplets     the key to unerstanding     a woman firm to the grasp     bare-shouldered, lips to the moon in twilight.     A coin stepped on in the street     perhaps a sou, a centime, centavo     a petty return     for rusting bells wedding the pavement,     a centotaph alluding to sacrifice     or toil in the fields     to gain one circular disc.     Bring a case of wine     those Puerto Rican girls     are dying to meet you,     the tune belts out     and I see a yacht     riding emerald waves,     think of swimming     out to greet her,     my skin opening the water     like a lizard's tongue,     a sheaf of leaves pressed back,     a rock pitched to dislodge a noisy cat.     Who tempers desire     in the tropics     when the air is to eat,     sand golden griddles     a harvest of warm wealth     piled as a miser's hoard,     green & more green skirting the city,     experience my sacred vessel of purity.     Think or cliff vines     mucous, little curtains     then pathways up to the final alley     psychologically taut.