Sundays at the reservoir
Stepbrother by the shore with both poles
I soon give up and wander off
Up and down the sere false hills and
Jumping new wadis of mud and weeds
Humming Elton John in my head

Grey Seal, This Song Has No Title,
All The Girls Love Alice
Making up words to fill the gaps
Nonsensical words to fill the gaps
Jumping over gaps cut by runoff
Over by the giant pumping station

I often return to that lake, that reservoir,
As a symbol of idle hours, idle with a stick,
Knocking down mud walls and poking into things
Looking for fossils and potsherds
Dreaming up junior high girl angles
Summoning the several futures
The foetuses of featured futures
Gestating in the reservoir
In the Sunday morning reservoir