My innermost thoughts are armadas
and their daily sea shanties keep me up at night.
I am privy to the crews’ treasure-seeking desires
but I don’t have the heart to tell them there are no gold doubloons.
Ghosts have no need for riches.
I, too, am a ghost.
I hit snooze, sleepwalk through life, power nap, rinse, lather, and repeat.
I am a concave vessel and it hurts so bad
so I dance a minuet by myself under the ceiling fan.