Strapped in a straitjacket
with brinksmanship in his drink,
the First Mate tells his Captain,
“the ship’s gonna sink.”
Staring into the gaping hole
in the hull of his mind,
the Captain demands
answers for the reason why.
Without evidence
the First Mate opines,
“Perhaps it was an iceberg
camouflaged as a mine!”
“No,” the Captain complains.
“We need someone to blame.”
And straight out of his ass
he pulls the former captain’s name.