on the shore of merrymeeting lake

                          
my friend Charlie reminded me
of a fire on a tiny white beach
on a tiny blue lake where
we had never been at together

and the flames were purple in the center
and we sat in a circle
and we drank nothing but water
and water
and more water

it was august, but
the night grew cold.
it was august, but
i didn't know Charlie
and it was august, but
it was not summer there

my friend Charlie reminded me
of a fire built from gray driftwood
of a tree cut down and drown
where a lake had never been before

and the flames were gold on the edges
and we talked in a circle
and we drank nothing but water
and water
and more water

it was childhood, but
the embers were cooling
it was childhood, but
i didn't know Charlie
and it was childhood, but
it was not prattle there

my friend Charlie reminded me
of a fire burning for the last hours
of a day otherwise forgotten and gone
where a man had never been before

and the flames where orange mostly
and we danced in a circle
and we drank nothing but water
and water
and more water