John S. Tieman: Instead of Nostalgia

When you swam in the Meramec

the sky dry and the shore rust colored

and the bridge hovered like a dragonfly,

a bargeman smiled and the women

thought about fishing and the world —

this country anyway — was quiet.

It was not forbidden to float

on your back, eyes wide, mouth shut.

There was little danger of drowning and

you’d been vaccinated for cholera —

your mother had seen to that — back

when there were mothers and shores.

Copyright 2017 John S. Tieman