Sunset on Puget Sound

The sun is low above the sharp Olympics,
Looming to the west. The sound is full
Of little boats. I see them from a bluff,
A flask-shaped whiskey bottle in my
Hand. The boats must be my former
Loves. The nearest would be Ariel.
Her sails are full. She glides away,
And, farther out, in silhouette, I see
Melissa, Megan, too, and Nancy,
And Michelle and Sasha, even Molly
Churning through the waves beside
The other shore. They all are moving
Out of sight, and, when they've gone,
And when this bottle's empty, I will
Drive alone, not to my home. It
Isn't here. I have a room. I get a
Breakfast in the bargain, and a
Shuttle to the airport and my plane.
I can't say anything is wrong.
The whiskey's good. The room's
Alright, but I'm not certain why
I've come, or why the boats look
Like my loves, and each of them
Is headed for the ocean and away
From me, and darkness settles in
So fast, and life, with breakfast,
Or without, seems such a waste
Of time.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 68 times
Written on 2015-09-17 at 00:55

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