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Rosie’s boyfriend Daniele will be arriving from Italy tomorrow night and will be jetlagged on Saturday.

Thunderstorms predicted for Friday will dump large amounts of sewage into NYC waterways.

And as if that weren’t enough, a broken sewage pipe near Croton Point Park upriver on the Hudson was dumping millions of gallons of sewage into the river as of Thursday.The Ironman might be cancelled (at least the swim part of it) if the problem is not resolved by the weekend.  (Refer to this excellent analysis of the situation: http://seaandskyny.com/2012/08/10/tracing-the-sewage-plume-and-impact-on-the-iron-man-swim/)

Given all that, I think Rosie and I will not do a bridge trip this weekend. And so here is my haiku:

summer thunderstorms
raw sewage in the river
my kayak plans flushed

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Today the Google homepage features a mini video game of a kayak racer in honor of the canoe slalom races in the Olympics. (You have to use Google’s Chrome browser to access it.) It’s 1:30 in the morning and Rosie and I are sitting here racing each other — with pathetic results. Good thing we are better at paddling than playing this game!

I just had to include this post from American Life in Poetry on the blog. Having just discovered the beauties of New York Harbor from the water, I can see the picture in this poem. The author, Patrick Phillips, lives in Brooklyn.  Patrick, if this is a poem about your personal experience, my heart goes out to you.  — RaNae

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Welcome to American Life in Poetry. For information on permissions and usage, or to download a PDF version of the column, visit http://www.americanlifeinpoetry.org.

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American Life in Poetry: Column 384

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

It would be nice if we could all get one last ride through a part of our lives we’d left behind. Patrick Phillips, who lives in Brooklyn, is our guide and pilot in this fine poem.

Elegy with Oil in the Bilge

By the time we got out on the water
the sun was so low, it wasn’t like water

but a field of gray snow that we plowed
in one endless white furrow of water

as I skirted the rocks and wrecked trawlers
and abandoned old jetties just under the water,

while you moaned in the bow, slick with fever,
whispering back to whatever the water

chattered and hissed through the hull—
until at last there were lights on the water

and I let the old Mercury rattle and sputter
its steaming gray rainbows out onto the water

as we drifted, at idle, for the last time in your life,
through that beloved, indifferent harbor.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Patrick Phillips, whose most recent book of poems is Boy, VQR Poetry Series, 2008. Poem reprinted from the New England Review, Vol. 32, no. 2, 2011, by permission of Patrick Phillips and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2012 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.

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American Life in Poetry provides newspapers and online publications with a free weekly column featuring contemporary American poems. The sole mission of this project is to promote poetry: American Life in Poetry seeks to create a vigorous presence for poetry in our culture. There are no costs for reprinting the columns; we do require that you register your publication here and that the text of the column be reproduced without alteration.