Manchester

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