the embarkation

“Well, that’s like, your opinion man.”

And yeah, sure.

The homeless and the glutton

clumped like fried dough

all doing blow, or alcohol, or music

on the crossing of Auzerais and

moonlight

“San Jose. It’s alright, at best.”

“Sure,” I laugh, but seriously

no man is an island entire

unto himself

.

The hotel was a dock, a ship maybe

waiting;

And I would have embarked

a thousand journeys, there

with you

If that night were, perhaps,

some haveable treasure

I’d have bought the

whole city, in search of it

to have it

---

on a friday in june, in the middle of the night.