I was a child
Short with stature
And with temper
Yet still during summer nights
I remember my old dory boat
As my friends strip
And fly themselves
Off the stone bank
With wild throats
And danced with girls
I would slip away
Unnoticed in dark trail
The receding campfire
My only lighthouse
To find my old dory boat
The craft stood still
Keel sighted to heaven
Stern smothered in the stone
Port resting against the earth
And the Bow pointed defiantly into the air
The wine flavored led paint flaked
Only 1 inching thick: the line ringed the entire lip
The whiteness of the hull only proven
By the few spots not yet weathered away
One shattered oar scattered in the junk protected in its shadow
And I would lay there
My feet bruised by the stone beach
With my whole self under that great dory boat
My sanctuary from all that is outside
Something just for me