The Round Water

These stories are not mine to tell,

They belong to old men.

Men who were once strong, and handsome

And who kept their cigarette packs rolled up in their T-shirt sleeves.

Men who water-skied,

And drank whiskey,

And knew how to dance,


They spent their summers at the ‘Eau.

They never missed a Saturday night

at the Pavilion.

to dance,

to fight,

to swing many girls around the floor as the band played

Marty Robbins, and Hank Williams and Frank Sinatra.

These are the stories that light up their faces.

They laugh at the night the cops chased them out of the park

all the way to Ridgetown.

Them, driving a 1948 Ford, without their lights on.

They remember the taste of T-bone steaks and Canadian Club

they splurged on,

 every summer Friday night.

The warmth of the bay, the heat of the sun, the temptation of the moon,

these are the memories of old men.

These old men say life is a circle.

Round, just like the bay of their youth.


Susanne Spence Wilkins

March, 2019