there's a certain pier
out there
that dangles off the east side
of a certain island
that i would without hesitation call 'home'

if you sat out there in the middle of the night
just for kicks for the first time
you'd be slapped around by the angry cliff wind
you'd be overwhelmed by the sea rot
and you'd be threatened the lapping of dark freezing waves
right underneath you in the spaces between the creaky wet beams
and it's all screaming at you to get up and leave

but if you are like me and her
you'd stay
we always decide to stay

we snuck out there late at night
and we found that there's more to the pier than the wind and the smell and the
cold and darkness
we found that there is just enough space
between the windblown wood poles and salt crusted cables
for two beautiful people to squeeze between and dangle their feet
over the edge
to laugh at that cold water and speak streaks of light into it's darkness
we found that there's just enough starlight to take a fuzzy picture
of ripped jeans and flannels and knotted dishwater hair
and a pair of glasses

i didn't know that i could talk to someone the way i learned to talk on the pier
it taught me
He taught me
she taught me