It's as if I took
a wrong turn somewhere
and found myself on a fog-smeared street
of old warehouses filled only with night.
A heavy sky hurried silently just overhead.
Chill off the harbor, sharp
squawk of seagulls made me turn
up my collar. It's as if I'd fallen
to chasing the dim flares of shadows
cast forward by lost streetlamps.
My bootheels coughed down blind alleys.
I know you from somewhere,
I told each shadow,