Slow Boat No Boat

We miss Superior like we owned it
and we got foreclosed for not paying taxes,
not putting our canoe in the water for too long a time.
We lost our Superior card, we don’t belong anymore.

Sometimes when the lake was smooth like a kitchen floor,
we’d carry our aluminum canoe a hundred yards to the shore
and put in.

And then we’d paddle, slow and clean, along that shore
while a few people watched from where they were standing,
knee deep in icy water, their feet on frozen agates,
some would wave, others looked past us at the big lakers.

We were so lucky we envied ourselves. That’s how perfect it was, our Superior, our boat, but now there is no boat and no Superior.

Seems we have been foreclosed.

Note: We haven’t really been foreclosed, we are just a bit forlorn because we can’t visit Lake Superior right now.

5 Comments on “Slow Boat No Boat

  1. I feel beyond blessed to live about three blocks from Lake Superior. My husband said to me the other day, “I’d like to move away from the Lake, and you’d move closer if you could.” He’s right. And even though he detests the cold winds that come in off the Lake, I loved him very much in that moment because he understands my love for the Lake.

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