40 June 6, 2008
the land takes one step toward the moving boat
the boat slows and the dead lake from its corners calls
all at once the boy scouts and cans of soup
all at once the birch shimmer real as the sky
our thoughts have brought us lonely so far
the photo filled with primeval green
hides the way we itched and the billowing
mirrored in the water below
displaces the sails above us
speak I will tell myself when I return
after all this time say something
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