The Southern Review, September 22nd, 1996
The seaplane lifts off in a surge of spray
like a heavy duck, and the gentleman in suspenders
yells "ee-YOW" in triumph, and we're all together now,
the old radical from Wisconsin in the blue Lenin cap
and Windjammer T-shirt, the spruce navy commander,
the copilot who rests her hand on the pilot's knee,
the guy with the potbelly and Robert Bly smile
who is greenly airsick after takeoff,
the sixtyish debutante in the linen skirt,
the beautiful woman who, though told not to,
will hide a piece of fan coral in her backpack--
wherever we have come from, whatever bad deals
we have done...
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