River at lunchtime

At lunchtime, people drive down to the river.
Trucks from the phone company, shiny Jeeps, dirty cars
face the slowly moving Susquehanna
and a soft green reflection of warmth.

The watchers pull sandwiches and apples from brown bags;
burgers and fries from white sacks; hoagies from plastic tubes
and chew while they watch a breeze make lines on the water.

Today, comes into view, a man on a homemade raft, a long barge.
His pant legs are rolled up and his neck is tan.
He had an old fence and other materials to make the raft,
and he knew where there was a river.

And so, he will float and pole until he comes to a dam.
And the lunchers will watch and daydream,
imagining they are him
until it is time
to go back to work.