Friday, May 27, 2011


Boats? Some, I love. Others, I loathe.
Some, love-hate. Loved
the sunfish sailboat
in which I learned to sail, at Bible camp, the summer
that I had to try really hard to not be overcome
with my new teen's crush on Anne Walstrom,
who was there that summer.

I loved the simple boats
in which my father and I went fishing
on Lake Spitzer in Otter Tail County, where he
would dip the oars in the water before we set out
so that the six o'clock rowing would not squeak so much
as to wake the other people who slept on the lake--
or drive us crazy.

I like the boats that carry people I love.
I like being helpless in the middle of the water,
too far away from shores 
for any task or responsibility or worry or bother
to touch me.

I like boats, because even though metal is more dense
than water, someone discovered how to make it float—
and sink.
This is how love floats, and sinks us so fast and hard
to the bottom with its gravity from the bombardment 
because it is not just a crush.

Boats.  Some I have loved.

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