You and Mary liked to watch the sun set from the shore
where the water tended to edge at the dock.
Mary rocked her chair to un-rhythmic lake laps.
It creaked awful and made you anxious
as the chair was shoved back on two legs.
A balancing act of self-courage and confidence.
Mary always had more balls than you,
more of a fuck-you-risk-taking side to her.
You didn’t let on that her rocking the chair back
made you nervous and worried, as you imagined
the legs snapping, causing a broken neck
and the images of spinal cord to stone pavers
reoccurred as you stared at her.
(The slight ricochet of a body when it hits ground.
A small bob as the limbs drift upward from impact
before they settle against the concrete.
Usually calling for someone to run over
and check to make sure the body is breathing
from the places it’s supposed to).
Mary saw you staring at her and said, “what?”
as if you wanted something from her
and didn’t hear what you mumbled.
“Nothing,” you said.