Short Boathouse Poems

My head splintered with silent thought

As I pondered over the crimson memories of you

Lifeless you lay

Like a boathouse wooden

Still as a frame

No longer in view

 

Lay...

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we'd drink something that'd give  good boot 
something strong 

he'd tell me about Dylan T 
the boathouse 
the scenery 
how he'd party with the worst of them 
show 'em how it's done 

and maybe 
somewhere between 
the laughs and the re-fills 
it would spiral downward 
to past loves 
ideals 
the occasional awkward stare 
and silence 

Then we'd part ways 
fluff-brained 
wobbly 
and forget what we'd learned 
about each other by the morning....

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