The Plank People
By Sue Cowing
I’m on the dock, waiting for the sun
to rise over Koko Head and the bay.
Alone as usual, but not alone.
The plank people are here.
They stare unblinking,
not at horizon, not at me or anything
in particular. Their expressions
not blank, but still, aware.
Whether clouds overhead are gray or fair,
whether the tide runs high or low,
all the plank people ever say is, “Oh.”