VISITING

Visiting is (either) gasping or just saying

fuck time and showing your teeth.

My smile’s just a breathing pattern.

The smoke is just the air, a contradiction.

The city’s spirit is a murky marble,

a callused pearl extracted from something fleshier.

It’s in the linoleum, it’s in the ferry terminal.

It’s in the grease of the barmaid’s hair.

And you in your hat, calling a cab.

And you in your hat, on loving loop.

And you against the water as it shows itself

more blue than any shame.