Where Are The Oars?
by Scott Inguito
We giggled,
popping grapes at
ducks.
Show me a
great
rope from which
tender denting
amounts
to much.
The
shore is close. Sort
of.
You are ailing? Kiss
me on the mouth, Stephen,
what-
ever you are
doing
is
brunette-
young, dumb
and this is not
an interview. Don't
you see the
storm is the same
as
it
is always?
