Boat Dock Duties

Boat Dock Duties

I check life vests for dampness and the heights of paddles and oars, these small things tethering boaters to air.

I pass them to boisterous strangers eager for a peaceful hour on the lake. Their buzz drifts on placid water—shrieks

and splashes fade like a passing heron’s cry. A thin man whose face droops on the left says, “May I paddleboat, please?”

I size his vest and lead him to the boat. His left foot bumps like the boats against the pier. Sitting on the rough dock,

conscious of my ease, I fish the boat close and hold it with my calves, the steadiest I can make this yellow plastic.

He sits and scoots awkwardly until he drops his bottom onto the pre-formed bucket seat. I help him put his left foot onto a pedal.

I watch his sandal-treads catch, avoid his eyes. “It’s not so bad out on the water,” I tell him. “I’m here a lot,” he says and waits for me

to unclip mooring lines and push him off. Sunlight illuminates his glide past the slip’s roof. “If you need any help getting back,” I say,

“just wave your arm.” He churns water with one strong leg, managing a wide-arching circle in the cove like my neighbor’s carp with finrot who swims lazy ovals

through the pond’s reeds. Back warmed by the sun,

my eyes scan the brown water, the yellow, red, and silver boats bright like carp bound by shore.