Pier Pressure on The Eastern Shore - Lamont Palmer

Consign to the wind what you will, or might have;
if you stand on the pier, looking out, you have consigned
the essence of it; and the wind knows.

It is a trifecta: water, air, you.
Emitting from the three is my needfulness.
I gamble on mix, standing on the edge,
spotting trash strewn nearby, tossed by lazy ones.
But nothing is ruined by the debris.

I looked out over the calmness of the blue.
I used to think it was beautiful.
I still do but I am not assimilating as I did before.
One can be the same, yet different.
Small waves make an eventful, lapping sound.

The event is the notion of standing here,
the notion and the physicality,
the realization of being partly here,
of being partly everything, only a half.
I am as still as the boats docked here,
waiting discontentedly to be propelled.


Lamont PALMER,
First published at Strangeroad.com