Rather, it is in the shorter history of America,
not England, not Italy, that we find ourselves
in the perfect middle of a rainy, summer afternoon
inside a 1930s shingled boathouse long since
beached on a low hill out of water’s reach,
and plumbed and electrified for habitation.
No effort has been made to hide its origins.
Old masts and spars wait in the overhead rafters.
Blocks and tackle, coiled in figure eight knots,