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John
Vick
Wind
Surfing
A
plane casts its shadow
on
the purple-hued mountain lit
by a
burnt tangor sunset. Will
the
weather hold? The glass of Eli's
windshield
shimmers in the slowly waning light.
Early
the next morning,
low
clouds move over the plains;
shadows
of the encroaching air mass rob
the
royal mountains of light and the flat
terrain
appears as though through misted glass.
Eli
looks out past
the
plains, the olympian mountains
rising
behind his light blue windsurfing
board.
In the shadow of the scud cloud, he sees
the
distant sheet of glassy grey rain encroach on his plan
to
surf like a champion
across
the sandy plains, no shadow
to
Doyle and Games Junior - who
can
sail across a field of railroad spikes
as
if over glass. Glass reflects sunset light off the
mountain
and
makes Eli grateful.
The
storm steers away from
the
mountain and Eli nimbly lights
his
passion for the surf, as fast as a shadow
gliding
across a glass plain, hand on mast, below boom.
20
February 2005,
round I, poem 6
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John Vick,
a professional neurotic,
resides in Minneapolis. A titless wonder by trade, Vick is
interested primarily in flash, short fiction and poetry. It rarely
occurs to him that people may ask, "What is a 'titless
wonder'?"
When that happens, he
reluctantly
tells them it is a military term for a male secretary. He is
not
in the military anymore, thank god. email: John
Vick
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