THE TELEPHONE POLE


The quiet waves
Of Richardson bay
The Three of us
Sitting in the rocks

Skipping stones into the water
The sun warm
A telephone pole
Half broken nearby

Pat suggests that we
Put the pole back into the water
We roll it slowly
Its weight a struggle

It floats bobbing a little
Then we wade to it
Off in the distance
Another shore Sausolito

We climb aboard the pole
The three of us begin
To paddle
We move out into the bay

We leave Tiburon
Further behind
With each stroke
The water becoming deeper

Crack pop
The dry wood
Expanding
The telephone pole coming alive

Still we paddle
Not yet concerned
Of any dangers
Sharks perhaps but they are not big

Crack pop
Splinters fly into the air
Half way across now
There is no turning back

We are three
And thirteen years old
If are parents found us
We would catch hell

Crack pop
That is enough for me
I jump in the cold water
A push the pole from behind

The shore is coming close
A thought
How do we get home
We are tired now

Crock pop
It has taken us
Three hours to get here
We abandon the telephone pole

We are soaking wet
And make our way
To the road
Three kids with thumbs out

No one stops for a long time
Then a pick up truck
Pulls to the side of the road
We hop in the back

I hope we will be dry soon
We agree not to tell
Anyone what we had done
A warm summer day


Michael V Hechtman