If there is misery in the world I do not hear it yet
I play sailor the map on your lap our legs knee deep
in salt water my green toy boat oarless moved
by even the thought of wind Loneliness exists
on every faded side of water like at the pier in Manchester
where we sit shoulder to shoulder father & son
in our windbreakers hooded in the light of late afternoon
though our minds are living different times the water rising
beneath us We do not take the tackle from the tackle box
watching instead the fog settle into sand Water contains
water of years
after us stones caught in my boat’s silver wake the dissolution
of childhood the sudden collapse of our galaxy
Everything at the pier in Manchester shrouded in everything
we almost say When you wade out your head is a small sun
brighter than man Evening dazzling our many surfaces
the boats knotted at dock everything taking shape around us
At this shoreline it is our blotted lives arriving seen from outside
ourselves movements from some larger arc
You saying nothing me saying nothing meaning shame
& meaning it tenderly