King's Ferry

Had I known the poem, it would have been different.

Jailhouse tats, ...dreads?, army green
fall-apart Freddy jeans that hung low,
Vision Street Wear and red Chucks -
you walk the jetty in the nighttime mist,
each stone a step up in my eyes.

Discarded limbs from the feast of the gulls
litter the sand at my feet.

I wonder if they felt their souls ripped from their shells on the ascent?

You balance well above the crashing waves; you always did.
I kick a ragged claw and head back to the car.

I am alone with you, always alone.

You remain facing west, forever
drawn into a world you would never take me.

~*~

~mvh