We rowed the six miles to Jones Beach
Chappy and I;
Six miles of shifting currents, strong winds,
And Chappy
Singing Japanese numbers to our oar strokes.

ICHI, NI SAN, SHI........

Motorboaters would stop
And ask us if we needed help
or a beer
or were we crazy?

But we did not stop
For our strength was only slightly stronger
Than the incoming tide.

That night,
I sat at the bar
And in a moment of silence,
I caressed my bruised and blistered palms
And loved the pain
Of my summer wounds.