Friday, November 30, 2007

Dig it, Captain Jim

Dig it, Captain Jim

Regina’s Slushy was definitely spiked,
her eyebrows definitely painted on,
and her husband, definitely in crotch-high boots.

Every inch of your pontoon
moving down the river, one roasted
peanut after life lesson after the other—

one heron picking up after the other,
a jar of bubbles tossed overboard.
Captain Jim, where are your socks;

where is your sexist boss? The pontoon,
still, in a slip, a mini-marshmallow under
a chair, a baby blanket left behind,

passengers, the crew,
Pontoon and her river,
snoozing side by side.

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