Now that my wife and I are about to have our first child, a boy, I have been thinking about my father continually, and when he talks about Atlantis, I no longer argue with him. As a poet and an English professor, I am supposed to deal with the imagination, so for the longest time when my father brought up Atlantis, I imagined whales. Whales that can dive to the ocean floor must be able to see some kind of ancient ruins sticking up from the sand. At least I like to tell myself that the ocean floor is made up of sand, the color and texture of a beach. This, like Atlantis, is probably not so.

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