(no subject)

I sat down on the folding chair at the edge of the parking garage, lit up a clove, propped my feet on the railing, and looked out at my city.

Downtown rose blue in the haze ahead. Cars slipped away to the north and south on U.S. 59. A moving van fuelled up in the Texaco below the garage, then drove off.

People move everywhere, but the things they build can stay solid no matter where they go. Skyscrapers. Highways. Gas stations. Friendships.

As long as they're built solidly enough, that's all that matters.

I looked out across the river today
Saw the city in the fog, and the old church tower where the seagulls play
Saw the sad shire horses walking home in the sodium light
Two priests on the ferry, October geese on a cold winter's night.

All this time, the river flowed
In the falling light of a northern sun
If I had my way, I'd take a boat from the river
Men go crazy in congregations, but they only get better one by one.