around the edge of life
id like to sail a while
destination no matter
time no purpose
incidents of pleasure
pure options
few and simple duties
performed over and over
so necessary a journey
cannot be lonely
and you one day
would slowly walk on board
and the shore of memory
grown brown and gray
and small and smaller
and the slow green boat
sails steady to its future
while you burn
newspaper clippings of obituaries
chess problems
stock exchange prices
book reviews
wedding announcements
and mozart concert programs
you never heard
one day
the boat slows down
something is seen
not seen
then closer
everything
has finally been burned
you are much older
it is futures end
the slow green boat
goes over the edge of life
it sinks inside you
without a trace
THE DOG HAS EATEN ONE OF YOUR BOOKS
IT IS SATURDAY NIGHT THE EIGHTH OF NOW
tomorrow is sunday
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