Standing tall in his purple chorister robe. His sacral presence not diminished but the new white Nikes on his feet. Don't need windin, take em in de showerbat, everything proof, got diamuns 'n such, right time all de time. I will always watch boats. She swings around, her three decks jammed to the rails.
Sideswipes bulkhead for contemptuous New York landing.
Pilings groan, crack like gunfire. Tourists down the gangplank thundering. Cameras, camcorders, and stupefied children slung form their shoulders. Lord, there is something so exhausted about the NY waterfront, as if the smell of the sea were oil, as if boats were buses, as if all heaven were a garage hung with girlie calendars, the months to come already leafed and fingered in black grease. Told him I'd give him a dollar if he'd let me se the label.