beyond

January 22, 2011

beyond

our dirty black honda

makes its way down rockwell street

in alexandria bay,

searching.

which one of these

cookie-cutter houses

do they live in,

my dad’s friends? 

we find it,

an old, washed-out,

robin’s egg blue

with peeling paint,

just like the rest. 

on foot down market street,

the dog is yanking the leash,

snuffling this and that,

as we pass a million

gift shops hawking

the kinds of delicate

things you buy

and then leave on your dresser

for ages, just gathering dust,

even though for now

they’re all on display, safe

in tiny glass cases.

we turn onto fuller street.

the sun glints

off the metal garbage cans

along the side of the road,

and we hurry to the beach

before it sets.

with the same puppy-dog precision

as the gray schnauzer we’re walking,

we sniff out the best spot

on the coarse, littered sand

in order to watch

the conceptualized, euclidian

sun as it melts

into the saint lawrence river

behind the shabby sailboats

all trapped in the rotting harbor.

oh, but now,

for the briefest moment,

a pure, fugitive fire ignites

the autumn leaves

of each of the thousand islands. 

and even from our trite,

mainland shore,

you can catch just the smallest glimpse

of the castles.