The mere 'touch' is described as particularly ensnaring. It leaves, I hope, the power of the mood ambiguous. I think the 'oh' carries these two lines. In the Bronx there is a Fort Schuyler on the water. From the road by the main entrance you can see the blue lights of both the Throggs Neck and Whitestone Bridges crossing into Queens.
People drive by here at night, sometimes parking for a while to sit on the sea wall.
I had a cup of coffee with me. I took one sip and my head started to spin. At that moment, the water suddenly started to spray over the wall, which it never does. This sonnet took me eight hours to compose, practically sweating blood with the stress it caused me. I was about to abandon it when I wrote the last six lines in a fit. l.1-2.