I want to be part of the proof confronting Alex about how "everything" is "different" in "the world" "now."
Late Afternoon, April 8, 1964
Raymond Carver
A little sport-fishing boat
wallowing
in the rough waters of the Strait.
I put the glasses on him.
Old guy in a canvas hat,
looking grim. Worried,
as he should be.
The other boats have come in
long ago, counting
their blessings.
This fisherman
had to be clear out to Green Point
where giant halibut school.
When the wind struck!
Such force it bent the trees
and caused the water
to stand up.
As it's standing now.
But he'll make it!
If he keeps the bow into
the wind, and if he's lucky.
Even so I look up
the Coast Guard emergency number.
But I don't use it.
I keep watching -- an hour, maybe less --
who knows what passes
through his mind, and mine,
in that time?
Then he turns in to the harbor,
where at once it grows calmer.
Takes off his hat then and waves it
like mad -- like an old-time cowboy!
Something he won't ever forget.
You betcha.
Me neither.
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