dark night
the light of New York
slipping out of my hand
like my father's last breath
before his heart failed

I watch a young man
throwing books into the water
his fair skin younger than
the moon

we are on a boat
going to Africa

there is a halo of blues
around his shoulders

I turn and walk down
the steps to the small
cabin room

I leave the young man
with his sadness
stories and poems
I leave him with
the music of the sea