Pirates in the Stream

A dirty stream flows by
the end of my driveway,
leaves and debris float high
toward a drain; swept away.

"Onward to the ocean!" I cry
as I sight the open bay.
Gentle creaks the rigging,
as my crew happily sings.

We strike familiar colors
and run up a Jolly Roger,
search for merchant or trawler.
"Pirate" is the name you prefer,
as I take your last dollar,
but I am an entrepreneur.

I stop to free the storm drain,
clearing a dirty stream again.