All of Us by Raymond Carver

afford
    to come all this way
    to see her. Just because
    he liked the sound
    of her laughter,
    and the way she swings her hair.
Aspens
    Imagine a young man, alone, without anyone.
    The moment a few raindrops streaked his glass
    he began to scribble.
    He lived in a tenement with mice for company.
    I loved his bravery.
    Someone else a few doors down
    played Segovia records all day.
    He never left his room, and no one could blame him.
    At night he could hear the other’s
    typewriter going, and feel comforted.
    Literature and music.
    Everyone dreaming of Spanish horsemen
    and courtyards.
    Processions. Ceremony, and
    resplendence.
    Aspen trees.
    Days of rain and high water.
    Leaves hammered into the ground finally.
    In my heart, this plot of earth
    that the storm lights.

III
At Least
    I want to get up early one more morning,
    before sunrise. Before the birds, even.
    I want to throw cold water on my face
    and be at my work table
    when the sky lightens and smoke
    begins to rise from the chimneys
    of the other houses.
    I want to see the waves break
    on this rocky beach, not just hear them
    break as I did all night in my sleep.
    I want to see again the ships
    that pass through the Strait from every
    seafaring country in the world —
    old, dirty freighters just barely moving along,
    and the swift new cargo vessels
    painted every color under the sun
    that cut the water as they pass.
    I want to keep an eye out for them.
    And for the little boat that plies
    the water between the ships
    and the pilot station near the lighthouse.
    I want to see them take a man off the ship
    and put another up on board.
    I want to spend the day watching this happen
    and reach my own conclusions.
    I hate to seem greedy—I have so much
    to be thankful for already.
    But I want to get up early one more morning, at least.
    And go to my place with some coffee and wait.
    Just wait, to see what’s going to happen.
The Grant
    It’s either this or bobcat hunting
    with my friend Morris.
    Trying to write a poem at six this
    morning, or else running
    behind the hounds with
    a rifle in my hands.
    Heart jumping in its cage.
    I’m 45 years old. No occupation.
    Imagine the luxuriousness of this life.
    Try and imagine.
    May go with him if he goes
    tomorrow. But may not.
My Boat
    My boat is being made to order. Right now it’s about to leave
    the hands of its builders. I’ve reserved a special place
    for it down at the marina. It’s going to have plenty of room
    on it for all my friends: Richard, Bill, Chuck, Toby, Jim, Hayden,
    Gary, George, Harold, Don, Dick, Scott, Geoffrey, Jack,
    Paul, Jay, Morris, and Alfredo. All my friends! They know who
    they are.
    Tess, of course. I wouldn’t go anyplace without her.
    And Kristina, Merry, Catherine, Diane, Sally, Annick, Pat,
    Judith, Susie, Lynne, Annie, Jane, Mona.
    Doug and Amy! They’re family, but they’re also my friends,
    and they like a good time. There’s room on my boat
    for just about everyone. I’m serious about this!
    There’ll be a place on board for everyone’s stories.
    My own, but also the ones belonging to my friends.
    Short stories, and the ones that go on and on. The true
    and the made-up. The ones already finished, and the ones still
    being written.
    Poems, too! Lyric poems, and the longer, darker narratives.
    For my painter friends, paints and canvases will be on board
    my boat.
    We’ll have fried chicken, lunch meats, cheeses, rolls,
    French bread. Every good thing that my friends and I like.
    And a big basket of fruit, in case anyone wants fruit.
    In case anyone wants to say he or she ate an apple,
    or some grapes, on my boat. Whatever my friends want,
    name it, and it’ll be there. Soda pop of all kinds.
    Beer and wine, sure. No one will be denied anything, on
    my boat.
    We’ll go out into the sunny harbor and have fun, that’s the idea.
    Just have a good time all around. Not thinking
    about this or that or getting ahead or falling behind.
    Fishing poles if anyone wants to fish. The fish