Sparrowjack

The son of my friend
was watching Pirates,
asked if Captain Jack was me.
I really, really wish
I could simply take that,
run for the horizon,
eye liner, attitude,
swagger and all.

Instead here is a man
folding in on himself
instead of sailing free.
A man for whom
the inside of a closed eyelid
is a gateway drug
to the perfectly unreal.
A man who keeps forgetting
that life is right now, right here,
spoons and cats and telephones.

And I got really fucking drunk
for this last part, you know.
In the middle of Ruby Sparks, thinking
I could make up someone too.
I'd be that insecure guy with the glasses on
who's probably gonna end up
married to a cliché.

Maybe I am Jack now,
headband, wasted and all.
Maybe this is where
we cut the anchor loose.