Rental Boat Boy

Ball cap reversed on his head
Sunglasses at half mast as
the bikini clad girl walks by;
he reaches for the next boat,
pulling the hose out to reach.
Sleeveless tee shirt, open to his waist,
long shorts to his knees and sandals on his feet
he battles the sun and the idiot children
to keep his rental boats clean.

Beach Blondes walk by
with nearly everything on display,
a tattoo disappears up a shorts clad thigh.
Fishermen , rods in their twisted holders,
their standing lines out,
guaranteed to be in the way,
with no respect for a man with a job to do.

A boy turning into a man,
wisps of beard grown with intense pride,
last pads of boy-fat
turning into man-muscle by the day;
he stands, squinting into the setting sun,
looking for his last three boats.
The rest of his boats are washed and stacked,
the perfect end to a perfect day,
missed by three inconsiderate customers.

He is the rental Boat Boy.

-- Chuck, a night driver (rienzoo@en.com), October 26, 1999