The Taxman on My Island

I was the king of the driftwood, the lord of the reef

My life was a poem, remarkably brief. Just a man and his shadow

on a long stretch of sand Far from the noise of the master’s command.

Then I saw a white hull on the edge of the blue I thought,

"Here's a rescue, long overdue." But he stepped off the bow with a look

so refined And a stack of tax papers for me to go sign.

He didn’t have water, he didn’t have wine Just a clipboard,

a pen, and a very thin line. He said, "Son,