A Late Night Walk

An hour and a half passed midnight,
To the west is the taunting tail of the false sunrise
Birthed by the counterfeit luminosity of the metropolis
Just beyond this swathe of animated timber, protruding
Through the rippling channel of the Columbia
A crane traipses down the unyielding planks of the marina
In a twitching prance reminiscent of Egyptian hieroglyphs
Beak protracted before him, pitching from stem to stern
Along his S sculptured throat, with each dodgy step,
To the incessant screeching of the steel gangway
Chafing against the dock, with the minute swells
Manufactured by the rapacious currents
I recline on the serrated surface of a picnic table
The iron bolts swiftly refrigerating the sweltering moisture
Saturating the obsidian cotton of my t-shirt
Arms elevated to shroud the streetlights
Endeavouring to suppress the celestial painting from my vision
The galaxy, the universe, cavort their pirouetting jig above me
An intricate spider web of vibrating stars
Each a solitary flame, a candle floating in a window
Compelling, navigating their sailors home

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