I have been at the rail and biting it
with my hands
wanting to be on that water like
Tom Sawyer and nigger Jim,
both of them,
wrapped into one human being.
That aside, the sky is burning
in flickers of lightning. There's a joy
to the ferocity of it all.
Some kind of dare. Some kind of dream
that begs an end to a story upended
and unended. Watching the clouds
gather strength above
where I know downtown starts
and the rest of Pittsburgh proper
begins. It's beautiful.
I wish I had my
rod and reel and tackle,
but I don't so I try
to suck it all in and paint myself
back stories they will believe in
when I get back to the bar.
