Our best times were on the lake

in a leaky rental rowboat, oars slicing through the peaceful blue-green water smoothly gliding across the glassy surface Our best times were on the lake with our borrowed bamboo poles worms wiggling in a Maxwell House coffee can bluegills, crappies skewered on the metal stringer

Our best times were on the lake slamming back a couple six-packs smoking unfiltered Lucky Strike cigarettes scheming, dreaming—making plans Uncle Sam would change

Our best times were on the lake sun trading places with the moon, oar tips dripping with the last of the daylight, rowboat bumping across color-shifting water

Our best times were on the lake even in that final season saying our silent goodbyes to what used to be

traveling together toward uncharted waters

Our best times were on the lake