We use the old tub most days
\ngetting from island to mainland
\ncarrying groceries, passengers,
\nrefrigerators\u2014we depend on her.<\/p>\n
She needs new upholstery
\nand some canvas repairs.
\nHer main advantage is
\nnobody wants to steal her
\nunlike the previous two
\nthat vanished into the sky
\nfor all I know.<\/p>\n
The voice on the phone
\nsounded stressed.
\nIt was the marine mechanic:
\n“Hate to bring bad news on a
\nMonday morning, but
\nthe gear casing bellows
\nneed to be replaced,
\nthe shift cable is breaking
\nand\u2014I have a list I could give you,
\nbut I think this has to be done.”<\/p>\n
Of course it has to be done:
\nany poor beast that works so hard
\nwill wear out and must be repaired.<\/p>\n
People not used to boats\u2014
\nkids and other optimists\u2014
\nare always impressed
\nby the old tub; they hear
\nthe power of the engine
\nthey see the wake and spray.<\/p>\n
I see a reliable pickup boat
\nthat suits our needs
\nand deserves to be fixed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This poem, #892 in wordcurrents, is about our boat, an 18 foot fiberglass stern drive that is about twenty years old. Continue reading