Ballade: On The Ocean Current

The Turritopsis jellyfish
theoretically might never die
but Nature rarely grants its wish
to settle and transmogrify.
Clear bells with tiny radii
are perfect sea slug snacks – alack!
It grieves me so, I’m apt to cry.
Would you be me, a leatherback?

Though jellies are my staple dish
I’d never eat immortals. Why?
I’m not quite sure – I’m liverish
and yet I would diversify
to eat the slug that ate my guy.
To quote a dipsomaniac,
‘my witness is the empty sky’.
Would you be me, a leatherback?

My girlfriend’s ridged like liquorice
and to my tetrachromatic eye
her unnamed hues glow devilish.
Although she’s 83, she’s spry
but not possessive. No, nor I.
I’m rhymy Jack (not Kerouac
who’d rather choke than versify) .
Would you be me, a leatherback?

Does immortality qualify
if one’s reborn amnesiac?
I ask each drifting passerby,
‘Would you be me, a leatherback’?