August, Tubing
After tubing we itch With memories and dirty River water. Our heads are full Of good thoughts: the way rapids Gushed across rocks and us With it. Fried chicken on the river Bank and coconut-scented sunblock. A fallen tree from which we jumped Into currents we hoped were deep Enough for us to touch bottom Then re-emerge, wide-eyed And grateful for air. by Janice Lynch Schuster













