father at the helm
of the boat,
we parted from the dock
and headed
to Smith Island.
no words,
nothing said, for how
could we
manage a conversation
in the wind
and noise
from the growling
engine as it plowed
the bay.
it was an uneventful voyage,
but the last one.
i could see they were
alike,
her father and her.
impenetrable, eyes
cast on distant shores.
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