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Dinghy

It was time to bring in the dinghy.
Loosely tethered, it sagged face up
moss green in brown muck
shoulder raised to nudge the reeds
soaking leaves, growing algae.
Its tepid protozoan brew
simmered through the lazy summer,
then knocked me squinting with a funky fist
at my careless trespass.

Grunting,
I calmly dumped whatever new life
may have formed there
into the cooling pond to feed the leeches.



Nov. '99

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