Lunching Vultures

He left the boat tied fore and aft on the windward side of the ramp It was low tide and kelp covered most of the low end The usual crowd was watching his every move Sitting there in the sun sipping from cold gloved cans Some smoking, some eating a brown bag lunch All waiting patiently for something to go wrong To brighten their collective boring day Lord knows how many slips and falls Dropped baggage, coolers and clothes Boats missing their boarding on trailers too deep All those eyes glued on him as he went to get his truck Every one averted if he looked back The trailer slid down the ramp till the wheel hubs almost dipped in He locked up the brakes and left the truck running in park Boarded the boat Started her up and cast off Backed her into the sea slowly Then surged ahead to plant her all the way forward onto the trailer Raised the motor then slid over the bow onto the tongue The hook was just loose enough to catch the bow eye He turned the handle a half turn to snug Stepped onto the truck bed Then over the driver’s side to open the door and get in He pulled up the ramp Stopped and got out Tied down the stern ties Then got in and drove off They waited for the next boat out