Pennsylvania Driftwood

Lime cotton balls 
               Fastened to branches  
Or in the river. 
Muddy banks 
              The Dogwoods
We throw sticks 
Into the water and call it
No real current, 
So you stay for a while 
The pines hide us in robes
             down the back road 
And the water is clear here  
In the yellow days of April. 
Our salt-stained wood 
               will coast South
Through Carolina creeks and
will hang as decorations  
in Dora’s house. 
You’ll ask to take a swim, 
And our damp clothes will stain the
                 seats of your car 
On the ride home. 
But for now, 
You have a bug on your neck
While you skip stones, 
I sit there with dirt on my jeans  
                      And we