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Two ships passing in the night, soft lips, strong hands. Scars, tattoos, day drinking, dirty feet… pirates come and go, pirate ships come and go.  This isn’t a lifestyle, it’s who I am, it’s who we are, my water tribe.  Her siren voice serenaded me while she plucked on my ukulele.  I could easily fall in love with her if she let me but the ocean is a vast place with strong tides and dangerous rip currents.  The last words I said to her before she returned to her ship was that there is nothing wrong with being single. There is also nothing wrong with chasing the wind…

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,

what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?

Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:

Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark. ~Pablo Neruda 

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