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4 At the Lifeboat Races Jersey, Channel Islands Seeking the alibi of one vast unmixable shade of blue, something between Jaguarapproved metallic and that very dark, almost black, bottomless color the British Navy calls “Blue 3346.” An optical cliché or storm-borne sky, blue-gray as integrity. At the annual lifeboat races, and its concert by the sea, a thing of shining and floating resolve deep tunnels toward Poonah Lane, conducting the night filling to melodies with a toss of a 50 p. cigar. Lightweight changes and charges, reputations at stake— involuntary guesses and refusals: circling as one, as an idea blueing, mirror-frozen, like staring into the eye of a chicken. ...

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