from: “Rink Man” in After the Flood: Hockey Poems

“Hey, Mr. Oliver.”
He stopped,
peered from light into half light.
Vague recognition set in.
Then silence; neither of us wanting to explain.
“Nice flood,” I finally said.
“Thanks. It set up quick tonight.”
He stood still, stickhandled in place.
Soft hands, deft touch.
“Goodnight Mr. Oliver.”
“See ya, kid.”

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