It was that even if we
never took that canoe ride
and when you did I shouted
to you across the lake about dinner or
And I could hear your oar in the water, breaking
it and your face looking up as I called
to you and you didn’t need to tell me about
or the sky above you and how the
clouds moved fast or the lillie pad
in bloom because I saw it all
And now, with my tea too
hot and the lint in my pocket soft and
I ball it up, it’s pink and I don’t know
why. I’d give it to you.
there will be far less
explaining to do.