after sharing his lemon, my first mate laid odds
against me growing to favor the fruit of the Goddess
it’s true, the Fates had me a long age adrift
but I found your lush isle and did bare my Greek gift
for six blissful years we did breakfast in bed
I think I might actually have been overfed
for the time came when my spermies started to snooze
and not long after, Hermes delivered the news

but I miss you Calypso
I miss the warmth of Your kiss so
I swear, the memory still burns in my heart
our tongues did the tango
Your yin did my yango
but destiny yanked them apart

still I can taste you, Calypso
and those nectarine lips, oh
You laid a spread, I just followed my hunch
You were saucier than Circe
and if Zeus yet had mercy
He’d have me back at Your table by lunch

I fancied a life with some warmth I’d have won
but the climate’s grown cold beneath this Ithican son
yet one suitor denies me my impassioned reprise
strung and pluck, I but play second lyre to Christ
the same drama unfolding nigh every night
a vessel full of semen left high and dry
to a pantheon of gods I’ve most humbly appealed
but it seems that my fate’s been hermetically sealed

but I wanna thank you Calypso
You really raised my midship so
Your wind was favorable right from the start
but all the while it was blowing
I had no way of knowing
it would be the last time I’d pour out my art

so, come and take me Calypso
oh, to be held dear and gripped so
I’m growing senseless from pounding my fist
this wine-dark sea that’s between us
it just leaves poor Polyphemus
with not much reason at all to exist

“I’ll fulfill all your wildest desires,” You purred
and, unlike those damned sirens, You made good on Your word
every day You made certain my myth got enlarged
and the ol’ Trojan warrior got honorably discharged

I’ll call Your Isle ‘home’ Calypso
let Homer say I was whipped so
he knows but half the odyssey I’ve endured
my logic is simple Calypso
You are a nymph, facto ipso
with You, the deck’s daily swabbing is assured

Well, you can have me now, Calypso
come have Your way with Your hips, oh
living without You, well,
I might as well be dead
my ever bedroom-eyed weaver
oh, why did I ever leave You?
I must have been out of my head

©2004 Robert ‘Rafiki’ Reiser