74
Two ducks
on a foot-square pond, yellow on blue,
have been sitting on my kitchen table for something
like eight or nine years. One holds sugar, the other is
empty, time gliding by the three of us.
I visit my
friend in the country. He's made some
additions in the last few years - a wing on the
house, species of trees, a pond. Under the dazzling
morning sun, the two of us sit by the pond and sip
coffee. Lost love is the refrain unspoken, yet we
remain the wishful chorus. Two ducks, tied
together, drift in time before us.
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Amagansett, N.Y.
November 1985