by Glen Martin Fitch
"We won't get lost."
He says and I,
"Or sink? Or drown?"
I trust him.
"Hey, we'll have some fun."
("And how did I get into this?"
I think.)
Our journey cross the river
has begun.
("What will I do to be with him?"
I scoff)
"You hold the side for me
and I'll for you."
We're in!
"Sit still!"
and with a thrust we're off.
The gliding calms
the trembling canoe.
"You paddle on the left."
I clutch my oar.
"And not too deep
and not too fast."
(I guess, "You're thinking
what I'm thinking...")
I suppress a groan.
He jokes:
"Tomorrow we'll be sore."
("...God,
what if he loves me
a little more than I love him
or worse, a little less?")
From:
8/11
Copyright ©:
Glen Martin Fitch
Last updated August 23, 2011