and so I sit here
on the ferry
to san francisco
feet resting
on the same iron hull,
perhaps repainted,
they felt when I saw the sunrise
two years ago and felt poetry
provoked, with the same pannier,
same color shoes, new socks,
same laptop, visiting
the same people in new places
new people in same-old
places, places smaller
on the outside, and people larger
or rather, more fully felt
by me now. it's easier to know
where one is when
one knows where one
is coming from.
this - for the sailboat - yes?