whose face is that – is that my face?
ah, yes, yes. i remember now.
the lake grimacing,
the warm tendrils of the wind,
an unremitting vitality,
an obscure lust for adventure.
the motorboat rumbling,
gas fumes dissolving into the sunlight.
anticipation clouds the memory,
but i’m at the front – the captain.
two nylon ropes attach innertubes with utmost infidelity,
the tow-ees terrified of the tow-er.
they let their laughter shatter their anxieties.
but me – i’m on the boat, always.
there’s a simple reason for this,
although it’s more of a moment:
the resonant boat engine,
the goosebumps,
the wild yells,
the O.K. signals, the nods,
the sunglasses, the frantic daylight,
the momentum, the boat’s picking up speed – look out!
and there i am, a relentlessly young mystery,
blond and blue and pale and timid.
but here, i’m brave – because i’m the captain.
i shatter corporeal laws with my imagination,
grabbing the metallic handles on both sides,
i lift the boat,
the boat lifts me,
toward the heavens,
toward the stars!
i taste the air,
the smell of sunscreen, of rotting wood,
the air wet with infinity,
a pool of rising eternity beneath us.
i won’t ever stop,
i’m certain i can touch the celestial sphere.
but… what is this?
focus places itself on my young face.
the boat has leveled off. it’s stopped gaining momentum.
here’s a good, constant speed -
the initial rush is over.
eying the guise of companionship, i turn toward my shipmates.
they’re awestruck by the rush too, but more used to it.
humorous, welcoming looks are a calm reminder to remember the wind.
the air’s still rushing by, whipping the water and whatever else.
an indefinite sigh leads me back to the future,
back to being captain.
the expanse is daunting, but not unattainable.
and look – look over there, some ways off:
waves the size of mountains.