Deer Lake, 2006

In a desperate bid for comments, any comments, any one out there? I'm giving you a new poem, "Deer Lake, 2006," and I swear to God that the inspiration for this poem came from a very "infamous" person they played on the radio up north. And then turned ugly when it obviously became about something else—wanna guess what's the inspiration behind the poem? And then feel free to trash it or not, but likely yah...I know it kind of sucks, but I can feel Ken Babstock saying to me, "Just put a little pressure on it."

Deer Lake, Summer 2006

The odd contrast of barge on a small body of water,
his sound carries, like helicopters in the night.
Noise of beer and pine needles, stripped now of the
intensity of the 1970s, it sounds oddly theatrical.
Soundstages and Broadway, all things misplaced on this lake,
here where loons call deep into the night
and the water always seems warmer when you're in it.

And you want him like you want another beer,
knowing that it's better not to imbibe too much too soon,
or your secrets come bawling out in the spider-infested outhouse,
where the sound is undeniably the best.

First kisses and lost nights to poker, pinochle and Moscow mules,
nothing changes except you, you who tells nothing of us to them,
taking the words right out of my mouth, just as I inch towards singing them:
out loud, not forgotten, this place, our place, your choice,
you took the words out, which meant you took me out, leaving me, there
beside the dock, watching for the sound to carry.