Years later, the pirates come.
I love them, their long knives
And thick axes. If only I
Could keep them from
Upgrading, from making
Climactic sea-battles all
Digital swagger instead
Of cannonballs and fire. I
Love their rough ways, say
If the pirates got you hooked
Up, good. They treat people
Of all races equally, taking
An indecent posture toward
All and any facial features.
They resist the future almost
Successfully, for which I
Give my damndest thanks —
Hand-sewn flags, felled cedar
Beams, loose company: every
Stitch, mast, and laugh
A functional bridge back
To me, to their retrograde past.