Muskoka Chair
June 15 2010


The dock rests on heavy wooden cribs
loaded with rocks,
fixed
through years of ice, break-up
gale-force winds.
The deck is sun-bleached lumber,
water-logged, a hint of rot
blistering hot
in high-noon summer.
Giant spiders
infest the dark wet space
underneath,
making little kids scream
when they venture up top,
or in spring
in the high water.

But at sunset, all movement stops.
When the sky turns cool blue
the horizon’s on fire,
and the lake is mirror smooth
nearly flawless;
dragonflies, water-walkers,
skittering across
its solid surface.

I am sitting
in a weathered wooden deck chair.
A chilled martini rests
on its broad flat arm
nicely frosted,
drops of condensation
sweating off.
The cocktail glass
seems oddly out of place
— olive, bobbing,
the jaunty swizzle-stick.
An open book is balanced
face down on my leg,
plot forgotten, as I sip
extra dry
vermouth, and gin.

Observing harmless spiders
a lurid sky.
As the chill of night
slips in.




Of course, south of the border, the Muskoka chair becomes the Adirondack chair – same thing, different geographical pride.

Not that this is me. I don’t have a dock, just a poor excuse for a beach. And if I read outside, it’s in the gazebo or on the backyard deck: both nicely screened to keep out the bugs. And other than that, my hard drink is invariably vodka and tomato juice (or vodka and V8, when I’m in a particularly virtuous mood – a libation I’ve taken to calling a “rocket V8”). Cheap red wine, though, is much more usual. But what could be more glamorous and sophisticated than a cool dry Martini?

I like the contrast here between that hint of sophistication and the rustic setting. And I like, as usual, the sense of microcosm: my very intentional aim of making the world as small and still and closely observed as possible. Insects work great, in that regard. Sunsets, though, are horribly susceptible to cliché. I hope I managed to avoid that here, by disciplining myself to keep it simple: nothing more than “cool blue”, “fire”, and “lurid”. (I know, I know: how can a loaded word like “lurid” really keep things simple?!!)