There’s a bit of nostalgia going around
amongst surfers hard-bent with age, sharing a table,
reflecting on who of them was generally found,
to be the most able.
Imagining themselves dominant in half-remembered sessions,
rather than succumbing to old age’s unwelcome, solitary depressions.
Telling each other of remarkable waves
of blinding speed and bellowing concaves.
But those days are done, the memories only jest
despite all that
We had it at its best.