Sugar Pine

August-1995
mid morning
after a breakfast of
cinnamon rolls and Italian blend
we drive down
following highway 49
through the American River Canyon
crossing at the north fork bridge
then climbing 3000 feet
up past Forest Hill town
8 miles further
turning onto red-dirt road
lake Sugar Pine
clear and deep

we wade out
the water up to our shoulders
taking off our clothes
holding on to each other
we make love-sex
hidden under a liquid blanket
of Sierra blue
a snow-water baptism

leaving late afternoon
you make me promise
that if you die first
I'll bring your cremated remains
back to that place
and scatter them there
I say "you're crazy
I'm ten years older,
smoke and drink
like a chimney-fish,
I'll be the first to go"
but you make me promise anyway

3 years later
2 time-zones removed
watching our son
tricycle the driveway
you say
"I don't love you anymore"
and I know you mean it
"the spark is gone" you say
"I can't get it back"
"fuck" I mutter

several nights later I dream
pictures of Sugar Pine
nothing has changed
the dirt road, the pine trees
the fire tower, the boat launch
perfectly preserved
the first time-the last time
all that's different is the water
blue won't come
the whole of the lake
a gray-black ash