The beauty of it



C.V. Hummer @1940

In the middle of an ordinary midnight, in the middle of an ocean,
My father leans on a ship’s rail and lights a Lucky Strike.
Match-bronzed, he is simply himself, a self-authenticating phenomenon
Etched in scrubbed brass and khaki, backlit, moonstreaked,
Handsome as a filmstrip, a military classic.
He thinks precisely nothing. There is nothing to be thought.
That is the beauty of it.

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