Monday, January 16, 2017

hemingway piloted his boat up the canal

until he reached
an end wall
and then tried
turning around
as if to undo
the complications
of a no-exit strategy

the wind picked his hat
right off his head
leaving his gray beard
brushing against his lips
like a hairy lover
lost on the mist
the clouds rolling in
canceling high noon
and then leaving him
to his own memories

--- e b bortz

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