The pirate jumped-off the bookcase
and swung his sword in the air, like a veteran corsair.
The morning light, was hours away.
He knew to stay away
from the astrology section
because the witches, would be out
and they didn’t play with swords—
They put men to work with broomsticks
sweeping the floors.
Charles was a poet, forced into piracy
because of his creator’s boredom
Perhaps, God created
when he had nothing better to do—
The writer played by his own rules
the way Charles was supposed to—
He left his cover,
out, in the open
like a bad character, caught in the act.
Charles was going to throttle
Luke Skywalker—that 70s punk, who stole Cinderella
on a whim—
Skywalker, was a chronic womanizer
that boy, who kissed his sister
Charles was going to do something about it
Character is Destiny
There was the fire extinguisher
and the box of matches, from the owner/operator
two packs a day.
The pirate picked-out a torch
and scratched it, like a syphilitic itch
until it caught fire.
He lit the cover of Star Wars
until the book was burning bright.
“No more, Skywalker,” Charles muttered. He pulled the pin on the extinguisher, like a grenade
and punched down on the trigger
it didn’t fire.
“Not up to code.”
More books burned, like a Nazi funeral pyre
as the characters screamed
off the pages
and the pirate laughed
at his revenge.
what the Chinese say,
“Before vengeance, dig two graves.”
Now, the New York book exchange
because the characters
So, go to your neighborhood bookstore
and liberate the pirates, witches, and bitches
before they play with fire.
They might just
change your character
your house down.