I feel two men step onto my planks where I touch the rocky shore. Their weight creates a snapping, crackling sound. It is the sound of age. I am over sixty.
The man in the gray slacks is talking to the man in faded denim. Their discussion is about me. I'm too old, my creosote is polluting the water, and my boards need constant repair. Barefoot travelers remove splinters and rust is corroding my metal joints. I'm very expensive to maintain. The most economical solution is to destroy me.
It has been a good life. I've weathered years of blazing sun, pouring rain and varying depths of tides. Sea creatures have cruised by on their way out to sea. Seagulls have taken respite on my pylons. Children have scuttled, skipped and fallen on my planks.
What I will miss are the lovers. On warm, summer nights when the moon and stars are at their finest, I feel the lovers carve signs of devotion into my wood. Hearts and plus signs connect loving souls. They stand on me holding hands or embracing or stealing a first kiss. They wonder at the vastness of the universe above me and depths of water below me.
It won't be long before the two men do whatever men do to destroy me. It doesn't bother me to end this life. My metal may end up in a junk yard and my wood recycled. It doesn't bother me at all for I know the lovers will always remember me.
The man in the gray slacks is talking to the man in faded denim. Their discussion is about me. I'm too old, my creosote is polluting the water, and my boards need constant repair. Barefoot travelers remove splinters and rust is corroding my metal joints. I'm very expensive to maintain. The most economical solution is to destroy me.
It has been a good life. I've weathered years of blazing sun, pouring rain and varying depths of tides. Sea creatures have cruised by on their way out to sea. Seagulls have taken respite on my pylons. Children have scuttled, skipped and fallen on my planks.
What I will miss are the lovers. On warm, summer nights when the moon and stars are at their finest, I feel the lovers carve signs of devotion into my wood. Hearts and plus signs connect loving souls. They stand on me holding hands or embracing or stealing a first kiss. They wonder at the vastness of the universe above me and depths of water below me.
It won't be long before the two men do whatever men do to destroy me. It doesn't bother me to end this life. My metal may end up in a junk yard and my wood recycled. It doesn't bother me at all for I know the lovers will always remember me.
