Nineteen nights straight my walk's ...

Nineteen nights straight my walk's here
where I can imagine lit Seattle,

heaped-up glass & mixed-bloods metal,
a species wink-out single an hour under the horizon

east. I'm bundl for the lengthy
wet wait in Gortex & memory layers

you'd delude but wear too.
The incoming ferry's constituent

a destiny now, the dock timbers grunt
then ping arpeggios the dupes echo

tonight as they fold then open
gladly to eat forward wing

the last popcorn couple girls on the ...