Midnight Sun with Sunglasses

They told me over the phone

that the sun never set in the summertime

and they wore sunglasses until 10 pm:

    "And the silvers are so thick

     you can walk across a stream

     and never get your feet wet."

So, I took two trains and a big blue ferry,

took my college Smith Corona and a zip 'em up suitcase.

The two Jacks (London & Kerouac) jostled and smiled under my brand-new sleeping bag

as I headed north to Alaska

and found a job as a dishwasher.

We all left our jobs at around 5

and never looked back til morning.

One guy had a wooden dory that he pulled with a rusty Volvo,

but most of us just piled into an old truck

we called Famous Potatoes

because the license plate said it was from Idaho.

"Open your hand, man

and I'll give you some salmon eggs."

Big and round and orange like a setting sun.

Tight and tense like a cheerleader's bum.

"Put them in a cup and keep them moist."

We fished them for Dolly Vardon

and caught them off a stony beach

    while the dory bounced and fished just off from us

    and behind him

    Douglas Island loomed green across the cold water.

I slipped my sunglasses to my forehead and smelled the picture 'round me:

    all was pine trees, kelp and laughter.

And we did wear sunglasses at 10 pm

and drank cold Olympia beer from small bottles,

and once I hooked my good friend Tom with a treble hook

and Famous Potatoes leaked a little oil outside the emergency room

while the doctor cut off the barb,

a leaping king salmon print above his tools.

He smiled as he sewed and asked about the fishing,

a pair of sunglasses shining from the back of his neck.

We didn't know anything about mortgages then,

premature babies, prostates, divorce papers...

we didn't know the meaning of impossible.

Fifty dollars was enough, two hundred, a found fortune;

and Yes! you could walk across the stream and never get your feet wet,

back when the sun never set in the summertime

and we wore sunglasses at 10 pm.