make shift

of all the things that have passed
since the last poem
it might be best
to start with the mention
of the house falling in on itself
or something like that.
there are cracks where the front porch attaches
and the room where i sit
has a floor which bowls

the floor tips me back in my chair
to look up past the screen
the painting on the wall
of the boat sailing away
riding the waves
sailing into the distance

i picture those i might wave to
from the deck
there are others sailing
on their own boats
waving back
some are calm
some let the wind whip them up
in danger of capsize
some bailing water
i still wave
my life raft may not be transferable

the house is not some severe symbol
it just shows it's age
it is not much different from the others here
in this neighborhood
nothing is perfect