When I am sitting at my desk and I have feelings It is like I am the lone passenger in a little boat On a sunny windy day. When we are lying down And we have good feelings it is a speedboat skipping Like a stone among the islands I feel we’re in. When we are sitting in bed at five a.m. talking the light On I don’t feel so good I feel like we’re on a ferry For another six hours going back and up and forth And down. At least it’s a boat. When I sit and talk to girls Someplace I feel like I’m in a maritime museum. When we walk together to the pool or park it’s like I’m rowing you across to Banff, and when I Take you in a car to your mother’s house, the Bay of Fundy. At work the coast guard, walking there the merchant Marine, me in my pea coat.
On a Door
With practice I could fold a rose Or a theory of prose or some treason But what is to be got--a satire? Expedience? the opera of laughter? I know conviction from the convict, The senator from February.