Searching for Lines

Dancing one’s socks off per three cups of wine,
Then skipping lines, circling my name,
And leaving to go yonder
In pursuance of fame.

Questing between worlds and eras
Upon a ship, either sunken, at bay,
Or on water, careening either which way
Without directions or maps
Ordinary to a more average trip
Says one, perhaps.

Meeting flash, bright sunlit square,
Shining upon my platform,
Gave me semblance of favor
And cheer above norm.
Here I filled a line or two,
Making way, scooping up time
And commanding the view.

Idling moments, daytime siestas,
Lasting spells on small boats,
Digging around the onshore castle I once danced in,
Now built to it a moat.
I circled around it, instead of my name,
Reading maps at high noon
And feeling some shame.

Finding a window, I pressed my nose to the glass,
Leaving a slightly original and greased mark,
Returning from yonder, skipping no lines
And erasing my name,
I left to go dancing.

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