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ISSUE:  Summer 1985
Overcast weakens the sun.
Free at lunch, a sullen man arrives
at the marina. The pier

juts across his vision ending
where the two sleeping ridges
guard the entrance of the bay.
He falls asleep behind
the steering wheel, condemned,
it seems, to the small dreams that drive
behind his closed eyelids,
Nearby, on the rocks, three boys
surround a silver-bellied perch
quivering on a hook. Enthralled,
they watch the gills fan weakly.
After his brief nap,
the man starts the car, drives away,
unaware the parable for his life
was not in the distance, in the gray sky,
but close up.

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