The Pirate and the Himalayan

I would capture you and supplant you in my kitchen, if I could.
I speak of you in ways that make others insecure.  That is not what I want.
i'm lost sometimes and forget what I'm doing here.
Sometimes the road from you to where I am
is too long, even for calloused feet.
I am like the bedouin heading to the marketplace
who forgets why he is traveling,
and in the midst of the desert, turns around again.

How many times must I do my turning back?
Before I remember what I was sent here for.

Feeling separate and unguided, I think
if only I had stolen a tattered piece of your robe.
I could feel its silky substance now,
and moisture would naturally come to my parched lips,
(and the pirate's work would have been well done.)
Then, I would remember that I am water for thirsty men.

Out of the silence, a reminder...
"You cannot steal what is yours. I am you."