NO SWIMMING, DIVING OR JUMPING IN CHANNEL
spray painted in blue block letters
on the concrete caught my eye
Black coffee sloshed in my cup keeping me warm
against a cool wind blowing off Lake Michigan
in this early summer beach town
Seagulls screeching and dipping low
fighting each other for tiny silver fish,
my only company
“Graymark” on a wooden board above a shingle cottage,
the sagging threshold showing years of sandy feet,
reminiscent of my own lack of upkeep
Reaching the end, I peered into the foreboding water
while two teenaged boys, with their pals there for support,
jumped into the cold dark channel.
In seconds their soggy heads popped up the ladder
bringing them to safety and I felt relief
because my arthritic knees could not have saved them.
So young and vital, jumping on a dare
laughing and ignoring the danger signs
which for me were everywhere.
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