a blue tarpaulin
over the old boat
of the old man
who has that palsy (that same
thing that killed off Woody Guthrie
) flutters, fills with a
wind bringing awaited rain
turns, folds over itself
fights and pulls, reels
contorts - he hasn't been seen
in a dog's age and that sickness
is a prison
he used to walk the mile
to the convenience store for
coffee and to prove he was still
alive - reeling, slurring
waving hello or goodbye
pitching sideways toward the river
holding his pants up
listing away
muttering
that thing that
killed Woody Guthrie
will take out his boys too, maybe
or it won't - it's a fifty/fifty proposal
and it's just for the boys
but this wind will surely build
and finally tear the blue tarpaulin
from his boat - it will
lift (bluer) over the houses
and, soon enough
ascend
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