North To Duluth Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

Lakeboat crews anticipate winter lay-up.
Our last trip north from the mills
begins early with gusty winds - large cup
of strong black coffee wards off the chill.

Guys congregate on the forward deck.
They talk of shore leave and Xmas cheer
with wife and kids, Xmas tree & final payday -
cash in the pocket for new TV & cold beer.

'Hey, Gus! See you next Spring? '

'Not me you won't, Mate! '

Twenty-seven years sailing
and all I got to show for it
is coal smoke in my lungs
and a bad back!