The impatient fisherman and his wife abandoned their spot and gone home.

There’s too much symphony in the sounds of train whistles, passing shadows,
and interstate traffic to get lost in old radio show podcasts.

This 50-year-old skin doesn’t make me human.
I feel less by the day.

After shift, check for a tail growing in the shower and for the protuberance of sharp teeth

No one speaks of how alligators were born:
whether it is something in the air, in the wharf music, and the passing shades of junkies and mad men

making the old DNA reactivate on lone nights next to the river.