I grew up in a small town
on the western shore of Lake Michigan.
There was always something to do but,
sometimes you came home wet and cold
and smelling a bit fishy.
I have lived with her for thirty-three years.
Some years were better than others.
Before we met, she had never been to the big lake.
Now we go there often.
A day
at the beach,
with her.
Yes.
Let's go.
At Harrington Beach, we sat on the sand
in all the light the sky could give.
The breath of the big lake was hard.
She was wrapped in a blanket
with a little white dog to keep her warm.
The gulls kept their distance.
It was too cold to swim
but the plash and clatter of the waves
and the warm sand
made us glad we came.
Bonus Poem!
In the second hand store,
I buy clothes to work in,
clothes to play in
and ninety-nine cent CD's
of Brahms, Wagner and Beethoven.
I am going through a phase.
This is my Deutscher period.
I hope it doesn't go away too soon.
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