Good to be down by the river late at night. Really it’s early morning.
At the landing where they docked the wheelers to refuel so they could continue puffing smoke up and down the Columbia.
When we were young I use to trick Lisa down there, saying we might see a ghost ship coming upstream. The most I got out of that was my hand held.
Now we go back, after it all, and a fair bit of strife and passion, laughter, kids and now grandkids and we hold hands like we are making love.
On the river we are many ages.
When I listen to the water I am ten again casting a line, watching the fish hawks out fish me.
Time keeps tabs, but I’m a drunkard. It’s all the same to me ’till closing time.
Meanwhile, it’s the stars and sky, river and sun, Lisa and our children.
The rest is window dressing.