i'm wandering nyack in search of
poems. i like it when the full moon
and the lights on the tappan zee bridge  
reflect off the hudson.

nights like that, the tides sing me something
inescapable, and my legs take me down the
steep part of main street, east of broadway,
and i stand on the undulating dock and
let the waves pass through me as i scream
song lyrics or memorized poems until
the water calms me. saltwater has a way
of reminding me of deep secret histories.
my mitochondria all remember
being born somewhere like this.

not tonight, though.

it's cloudy and the sky is whispering
but he spits when he talks and
i thought spring was out tonight
but she went home early because she forgot her wallet

all i can find is
drunk strangers and
beer i don't like

few things reduce you
like so many unfamiliar faces
in a familiar place

inspiration tiptoes
out my pores in fine droplets,
evaporates; leaves behind a salt-crust of
voiceless hollow, so
i go for a walk
letting the almost-rain try to rinse it
from my bare forearms, calves, cheeks

i don't find any poems tonight,
only a feeling of