the last word is captain

My head didn't grow anymore
when I stopped growing,
but the memories multiplied,
so, I must assume they are now in my belly,
my thighs and my legs. A walking archive,
my ordered disorder, a storage room weighing down
an overloaded ship.

Sometimes I want to lie on a bench in a park:
it would have changed my status
from lost inside to lost outside.

Words begin to abandon me
like rats from sinking ship.
The last word is captain.