the sun rises over the lake and he sits
on a wooden dock, careful of splinters
a loose board pinches

his last beer
after a long night
is his breakfast

a loon calls its mate
calm dark water reflects
the orange slice of rising sun

lying on his back, his head
hanging limply over the edge
he cannot tell which sunrise          is real

a splash as the loon dives
looking into the lake
he is not sure
which face
is his

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