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.
How to Be a Lawyer
My father taught me how to play the beer bottle. It was Schlitz, and I was three or four. "You tuck your lower lip under, then blow air over the top of the bottle." I produced a tone, and we laughed. He paused. "You can make a different sound if there's less in the bottle," he said, motioning for me to take a sip. I did, then blew another note. We laughed again.
"Do you want to learn something else? Here's how to be a lawyer. Raise one eyebrow." I did so. "Good. Now hold it for a few seconds, turn toward the jury, and say 'I see.'"