It’s been 10 years.
Maybe at 50,
we can draw the line
decide oil and water
and give in.

Maybe not.

I can’t take pleasure
in shimmering water,

It’s glow,
the way the sun glints
and mirrors,
the naked masts like
winter trees.

They just remind me
of what?

Heck, I don’t remember
the argument
Do you?

Seagulls plunge at the sea,
those last scraps left.

I sure can’t find them.

I have nothing to anchor to.
No piece of earth to tie off,
nothing.

I’m the guy at 50
wondering what happened.

Why swimming is forbidden
and I have expect
to see a warning sign.

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