A houseboat on Herrington Lake
where Jack Teal orchestrates martinis
for Dr. Tom and Z.Z.

The only other boats are far away
we can relax and be ourselves

Near the west bank
we drop anchor 
shade from a giant sycamore
lets us jaw away the afternoon

until dusk
when strawberry moon rises
to illuminate 
our every sentence

The motionless water turns to glass
we strip off all our clothes
dive in 
to make sure it’s still liquid

Back on deck
we dry out
by sitting like stones

Nighthawks pierce the air

Suddenly
the boat has a glass bottom
and we three sailors
can see down into the depths
of who we truly are