November 3, 2008



Standing at the end of the dock
Under a large green roof
I look out across the lake
In search of white waves

I pace up and down wooden planks
Past bags of luggage and groceries
Past the old woman looking blankly into the blue
I wonder what she sees

Two young men emerge from the white building
Carrying sails down to the water

Their lifejackets hang limp, unfastened
What will save them now?

I hear the roar of a motor
I can see the white waves I longed for
As I step from wood to gunnel
I smell gasoline

What a wonderful smell
That of childhood memories

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