drag me down through the low e.,
under this amber moon and failing starlight.
along shattered sidewalks
scratched with the names of long dead loves and lovers,
beneath trees that reach through the tired asphalt for a drink, like me.
pull me up the winding stairs,
past creaking doors,
and into this room, womb,
where we can wait in away from the storm of flesh and steel,
hide away in this dissolving midnight,
and let the receding darkness reveal the last sips of my soul
as they hang from the masts,
tapping away in the breeze
with the gentle drum of deep, dead waters against the hull,
sleep is the ocean on these late summer nights,
as salty,
as damp,
sinking,
drifting
and praying for a breeze to give us a shove
out to sea.