Thomas Hollyday

A blonde girl
skippering a smart sail racer
in a reach to the sun
calls to me
"right of way"

I point my craft
to match her speed

We race
close alongside
down an exciting river
no eye to weather
with sun shadows
darting into the white water astern

"Port or starboard"
I holler to her
so our riggings do not tangle

But in this race
she only smiles
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