3575. OH SAIL AND TACK

OH SAIL AND TACK

Right here where a New York ferry

docks I am standing apart and alone.

There is a fiery cheer coming off the

water, and people are talking of the 

past - something which is no more.

I would object and say that past is

so much with us, but no one here

would listen. For these are kin, the

efficient kin, of a modern day, one

I will not be part of : wired, connected,

in touch with themselves and each other,

in a world of ether connections. They

live in a magic they know nothing of.

-

I look up and see an ancient day - a

wavering smoke drifting up from the

tar and creosote wooden pilings creaking

in the water with age. Dragons sluice

through the mud, and old men, bent and

tired, try drinking spirits through their

wrinkled and calloused cupped hands.

-

Saint Valentine's Day with a torch.

Saint Patrick's Day with a sword  -

lethal moments of lethal time. The

big white boat is docking. The girl

with the pearlescent earrings and

deep blue coat says : 'I have two

of them. I bought a matching set.'