I showed how I put whiskey
into water to drink it without
chasing.
Then they got it, to them the
Amber evening water took like moose to
a bog.
The lichen was a pillow just as
the first winded fawn took to laying,
and so this is how I become a man--
once I'm needed, I'm made so.
. . .
Last night we finished off our whiskey
and pan-seared two lakers and a coho.
A hearty fish meal, so wisely all of
the whiskey drank on empty stomachs
first.
We stood on the rock and moss
outcropping
with arching down and away to the Lake
on all our sides but forward where we
took
pictures and heavy fog settled among
the other islands.
. . .
Came into the docks of Rock Harbor on a
long
raining and chilled August day to set
across the channel to the big Island,
rain
and whitecaps coming across steady as
oak root.
For dress that rain-soaked,
hard-paddling day:
polypropylene sock liners, costco
woolies,
standard briefs and gray disintegrating
jeans,
chaco belt, white long-sleeve top, rain
jacket,
plastic bags and garbage bags and my
keen water shoes
and I stayed driest and settled just for that.