Boat Town

The smell of the harbor
makes me want not to live there
with the nearly homeless skippers
sobering in the sun
their leathery skin
listing toward cancer
waiting for the shop to open
before returning to the safety
of the "Four Wins"
"Lady Luck" or the "Phanta Sea"

I squeeze your hand
hurry to the car
and put the harbor behind
growing smaller in my mirror

for now