31st Birthday

[TranquillityBase]

31st birthday

Suddenly I remember
I had a son.

I drop down
into an empty place.

It’s a soft landing.

I sit at an old picnic table
on the shore of a lake.
It’s August, the month when he was born.

The table is shaded by a tin roof
held up by four worn cedar posts.

John sits across from me.

I ask him how he is doing
and he says “OK”.

He’s never been much for long conversations
unless the questions came from him.

He is gone again
and I watch the waves on the lake
roll towards me.

31st birthday

Suddenly I remember
I once had a son.

I drop down
into an empty place.

It’s a soft landing.

I sit at an old picnic table
on the shore of a lake.
It’s August, the month when he was born.

The table is shaded by a tin roof
held up by four worn cedar posts
decades older than I am.

John sits across from me.

I ask him how he is doing
and he says “OK”.

He’s never been much for long conversations
unless the questions come from him.

He is gone again
and I watch the waves on the lake
roll towards me.

I once had a son.