Pirates of the Caribbean is the Love Boat’s Last Sailing

By the time our yellow boat
brings us to the first drop
the air has chilled, mist curled
around us. The tips of your fingers
touch mine for the first time all day.
You slide toward me in the turn and we cross
the harbor. We’re in the thick of it now.
A pirate ducks the mayor, another stirs
his treasure, a woman screams unseen.
She’s been promised an evening she’ll never forget.
You clutch souvenir bags, and I begin to feel your regard for me.
But there’s not much left of the town. Fires eat the timbers,
pirates eat the bones, test coins with their teeth.
Our little boat sways with effort as we float to the exit.

Carol Everett Adams writes poems about Disney theme parks, organized religion, UFOs, and other topics. She lives in the Midwestern United States and works in the tech industry. Her poems have been published in California Quarterly, Euphony, The MacGuffin, The New York Quarterly, Owen Wister Review, Quercus Review, Soundings East, Sweet Tree Review, and others. You can read more of her work at caroleverettadams.com