Five days in Woody Point

There was the hike over the loose
pink rock to the sea. The waves
driving in hard but we stripped
off and ran in and I thank the
four of you who ran in after me.
Also thanks to Dave who yelled
at me to come in out of it, as
I wasnt aware of the undertow.
I'd like to thank the man in the
pick-up who stopped and drove me
home. I'd been at Clyde's until
six in the morning. That was when
the three skinniest arses in Woody
Point walked down to the wharf
and dove in. Who knew you could
hear songs sung without a guitar
for four hours straight? Thanks to
Andre who caught the mackerel and
roasted them on the fire out by
Middle Brook cabins. And to Barb
who fed us pasta and scalloped
potatoes and to Clyde for the pea
soup and the story of him reading
my book in Goethe's garden. I thank
those who took the warden to the
top of the tablelands while I poached
fish in Trout River. One of the
above things is not true.