They fuck you up, your mum and dad

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

--Philip Larkin

The Lake

This girl I hardly knew, taller than I was

and skinny, who made us boys

puff ourselves up and show off how far

we could throw rocks, or how many times

we could skip stones across the choppy water;

this awkward kid I'd never really spoken to

asked me one afternoon to swim across the lake with her.

We were sitting on the dock. It was chilly, but I said

I would do it, though the other side was hazy--almost

out of sight--and it would take us until dark

to make it there and back. So we dove in and started off

slowly. As we swam, mostly breast stroke, she talked

about the lake, how old it was, what sorts of creatures

lived there now, how it had changed

over its lifetime, the depth of its ice

in winter, how the fish huddled down on the bottom

between the ice and mud. And then she asked me

what I knew, and I had to say, Nothing in particular.

And then, despite myself, I made up a story

about the stars: I heard myself singing a song

I made up as I sang, about the constellations

and soon she was singing with me. We reached

the middle of the lake, out of breath but singing,

and realized the other side was too far. We treaded

water there, then turned and headed back, quiet now.

We were tired. We climbed out and walked our separate ways

home through the dusk light to our families

in silence. No goodbyes. And we never spoke again.

--Michael Hettich