PORT SIDE


SAN FRANCISCO TO SAUSALITO FERRY TERMINAL — "Walk your bike. Hey." This is the authority, calling to a tourist no doubt, wheeling his rented bike off the ferry down the boardwalk, which is not that filled. There's enough time to write this down with some penacity with a Stylst. Those with tickets also have: an iPad, a Cannon camera, fedora. a throaty cough, and a bouquet of flowers. At the front of the line white earphones are in. Saddle Bikes are pushed off the ferry as we wait. Everybody's on the boat except the voice in my window ear. The redhead found her seat. 


PORT of SAN FRANCISCO. Oh, there's Coit Tower, the Pier and Downtown. The Warf. And waterfront lights. A can of beer opens in my aisle ear, and a conversation I can't make out. Chips from a bag crunch. 
Toes and legs–
... Blow up the place.
I can't make out the rest of the sunset that's Golden Gate's direction. Boat sounds up and to the right. Lights are blinking, light green and going. The broken conversation is not immediate but Roger. 
That's Alcatraz out there, all lit up and alone. 
"Who's Waterman, tonight?"
Double stripe. Double stripe. 
As far as you can see, Baby. I voice the images by the window.
Is that enough?
Yeah me, too.
He's as nervous as me. 
The redhead got the red wine. 
There goes Jail Island, a ghost of a place.
A rope wavers on the deck, white and outside. The water's a different layer: midnight, a texture, curved,  arcing below the Bridge, orange with light, connecting two lands where I live and work. 
And now, City sits back and behind. Lights in the distance. Forward in time.
"WHO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT SLOWING DOWN? WE HAVEN'T SLOWED IT DOWN... WE'RE LUCKY WE LEFT ON TIME. ONLY ONE OR FIVE MINUTES LATER."
"Go down to Vietnam." The conversation is lighter. Vietnam is mentioned again, and then, "SAUSALITO AHEAD." 
Hammering this in, One asks, "Is it CAR-uh-beaner? Or is it Ca-rib-een-er?"I miss what's next
"Now were talking, Ron."


"Get out of here.
"Waaooh."
And that and this and this. Followed by: "Yeah yeah yeah."
"Know what I mean?"Then, ?  and ? and ?
"So, whattaya gonna do next? another asks.
"STARBOARD ... I'm sorry, PORT SIDE ... Left-side exit."
We're not moving. True light, man. The engine stops.

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