Off
the Public Landing, Provincetown, 3 PM
1
Her suit
the exact pea
of the bobbing boat
its flag
orange
against the
clouds that melt
milky into
the slate of the
causeway
leading
the eye
around and out
to the
men
whose lobster
flesh
makes me
press my arm
and consider
the lotion
buried
deep
in my bag.
2
the monotonous
scoop
and emerge
of the kayak oar
the driftwood
takes on another
seaweed necklace
endlessly
changing
her mind.
3
Nothing
moves fast
but the white plane
pushing through
the clouds
The artist
pulls out her
high-laced shoes
Dragging
her
towel, the child
peers beyond
our smiles,
her heel prints
waving past
5
Eileen
fills
the jar with
sea water
and paints
The hat
is mine
and the slight
imagined figure
makes me smile
The green
boat
and the deep deep
water
6
Out there,
hip deep,
the sun hits
the water
and breaks up
in the glint and
glimmer caught
from somewhere
deeper down,
a flash amid the
simple sweep
of the waves.
The green
bow
of the moored boat
catches fire
and, unmoving,
sails away.
Copyright © 2001 Michelle Cameron
