crisp morning air, a quick pipe, quickly cooling coffee
try to ignore the news of the melting, congealing world
find solace in the songs echoed off metal hulls
the throat songs of lines stretched to the rhythm of river currents
the best part of the morning report is the weather forecast,
giving us some hope in the slowing that happens
after first frost falls
hot hotel coffee and pipe outside on a crisp morning
keeping company with straw and stars and stripe kitsch
the colors of October: a canvas stretching
along the river that frames these days
telling myself it’s a day off, I can breathe a little, drink coffee
going to see old friends soon and buy a few supplies
every waking is a counting and a reckoning of things needed
every waking is a remembering and planning
every waking is a new realization, a different surprise
that I am closer to the currents of things
than the day before
Old Losantiville, gone gone
under a city of aluminum, steel
LED lights and fake boat whistles
piped through speakers:
leaving, I give myself leave
to remember my geography
my own way
