The Pirates

Let's have pirate sex.
And I don't mean
a brief bang, filled
with godawful puns
about shivering timbers,
hoisting the mainsail
and swabbing decks.
No, let's go back to that beach
on the Lizard peninsula,
the one where we always planned on screwing,
but ducked out of, for fear
of voyeurs, police, and salty sea-doggers.
We can play at being marooned
with only each other for comfort.
I'll untie your bandanna. You
unlace my shirt. We'll drink
contraband smuggled from the offy,
and practise ways of warming up
as if electrics were yet
to be thought up.
Later, paddling our hired dinghy
round the bay, I'll let you pen
a Jolly Roger on my pants
and fly them from a stick
you'll claim
was Long John Silver's spine.