Harpoon Is My Harp
Thar he goes above the mantel like a rubber talking fish that is glued to a piece of wood with a red button. Wailing for sleep, i’d drown in this Alaskan king sized bed if it was steep but a relief for it is shallow. Retirement is something you vaguely look forward to, you see it on the horizon and the horizon sees you. You never know when you will finally meet like the neighbor with the hot wife that is across the street. Give me a head up when that date is ready to come by, don’t catch me when the batteries in my watch is about to die. I don’t want to give it up so soon, I know that drugs are bad but I just really like spoons. I wish I could say that I did nothing wrong, the whole team is behind me and is saying that I was never in the wrong. We all got different policies and beliefs, the place over there wants you to take your shoes off unlike the place on the other side of town. Early retirement is here for me, adjusting to this lifestyle will not be easy. Anything I give a crack at will only ever remain as a hobby due to the little bit of time left on my body’s productivity. It took me years to be a great whaler, we’re talking about decades of refining the tricks to the trade. More than half of my life expectancy was spent on the ship with my team of men. Babies, like babies we slept in our cabins on the ship as the tides rocked us to sleep. That water was a mother to me, it knew when it was time for me to clean my room. My sea legs are leaving me with each headache that seethes my cranium. I didn’t do the whaling for the oil, blubber, bones, or medicine. There was a decline in the want for that stuff anyways, try placing a market price on an open market. I never tasted whale in my life but I sure smelt it. When you get good at fishing in a small town, you gather a crowd and that crowd must maintain. I could catch beyond just using a rod with reel, hand me my rain boot so the crab could hop in like a chute. Lassoed the frog and toad with only the string from the reel. I couldn’t get past the harpoon, can’t trick no fish with a stick. The crowd left, the failure to amuse wasn’t amusing enough. I ain’t forget where I came from like a hollywood whore, I knew I had to master the harpoon. Years of plucking ole reliable like a harp, left me with fingers like Michael Jordan’s right index finger. I had tribes and even commissioners wanting to see me pluck the trigger of the harp when I came to town, via ship. If I had a trophy to take home after it was said then done, i’d say keep the uniform and let me retire ole reliable. On the mantel it sits, the barb is as sharp as I left it the day I left it all behind. I had two rules, two rules that I kept to myself then enforced as I was promoted to take the lead. Don’t kill the stingrays and especially, don’t kill the shark! When I first got there, they killed anything if it was to windy to play cards that day. I had to turn away, I knew they had killed sharks but it doesn’t count if I looked away and I was a rookie anyways. Toy shark besides me since I was three, turned it into a keychain when the childhood went. A bag of gummy shark candy came along every time I went to get bait for fishing. YOU DON’T KILL THE SHARK ON MY WATCH! Cleaning ole reliable, the cherups are playing a serenade with the harp as they look down on me for what I accidently did to the shark. On my watch, I was watching when I broke my own rule. In front of my men, I was no ideal man when I broke that law. First time touching a shark in this state, something out of my dreams and nightmares. Had to get it on board so I could see if it even went so deep, on the other side the barb peaked. Out of respect I removed it so it can have some dignity but the men wouldn’t let me roll it back into the waters. Park me at the closes port and leave me be with my shame. The men didn’t want me to leave, fifty percent of it was due to being of afraid of having no lead. Shame is still splattered on the harp as it was left uncleaned, it sings me a celtic ballad when we both see each other.