Mermaid

She's perched on the rock with a heart in her hand and absolutely nothing on top, dark hair down, green tail flicking the foam — the kind of Sailor Jerry pin-up that got a thousand deckhands tattooed at 2 a.m. and divorced by Tuesday. Behind her the sky burns sunset orange, the waves chop ugly, and a tall ship with blood-red sails carves the horizon like it's running from the law. This is the bag sailors wreck on the rocks for.

Flip her and you're on the deck of that clipper — red stars, gulls, full sail, full send. 6/9 slide: the fast side glides off the lip like a hull cutting glass, no drag, no second-guessing, straight into the hole. Slow side drops anchor on the boards and refuses to move. Figurehead up top, ballast down below, every throw plotting a course.

Last bag of the round, lights low, crowd thin, money on the line. Hoist the sails. Throw the Mermaid.