On Welch Island my                                                                                                                                
dad and Uncle Gordon                                                                                                                            
used to move rocks with a crowbar,                                                                                                     
sweating like white bulls.

Mom and Aunt Jane                                                                                                                         
would smoke and fret and                                                                                                                      
keep an eye out for heart attacks.

That was in the sixties before                                                                                                               
the EPA and Bruce Springsteen                                                                                                           
burst on the scene.                                                                                                                                  
I-93 was new to the Granite State                                                                                                       
and tents were made of canvas.

The unutterable golden lattice                                                                                                           
of Bethy’s new swimsuit                                                                                                                         
failed to conceal her dark triangle,                                                                                                       
and me and her cousin John                                                                                                                
paid tribute for hours,                                                                                                                             
swimming circles around her July                                                                                                      
scissor kick.

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