All We Learned

For Jim Gray

The sky above the surf club fadeslike a sun-bleached photograph.

There are days when a sky like thisreminds me that we never found your body,or the boat you sailed out in,your mother’s ashes stowed astern.

I think of huddled hordes of researchers:your acolytes in labs across the globe,the satellites and serverswe sequestered for the search.

And all we learned:the sea is bigger, still, than analytics,not a pixel of you spotted in a million images,not a cleat, a rope, not a scrap of sail remained.

There are days when a sky like thislaunches a thought of you across itselfI struggle not to follow.