Coast

The ocean smacks
melted snow now,
in the banks 
 
of another harbor.
How everything
touches, basks
 
in the moment 
of meeting.
 
Vapor, onto window,
absorbing old heat, 
vinyl bus seats,
 
with sweat 
contacting 
naked legs.
 
The perspiration
denies the weather,
refuses to freeze,
 
so it thaws.
 
It is already dark
out but I refuse
to crawl 
 
into the bus
seat and drain
my body out
 
with fatigue,
like the rain
does before
 
it evaporates.
 
Instead, I get out,
stand in drizzle,
turn my head 
 
upwards. The bus
glints off, glass
turns to glaze
 
in declining light 
and then I think of ice,
skates, how I want to
 
run over clear rink,
coast upwards,
like when tires meet
 
soft cement for 
the first time,
 
when snow meets
bank to form glacier,
 
when sails reach
to touch harbor,
 
when feet meet
to dig into
icy precision.
 

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