shipyards

itis dark outside
and i am too drunk and i cannot
stop thinking about my dad
everytime i pass the shipyard i think about
 the countless hours in which he told me
the provenance and
ownership of all of the boats back several decades and i cannot
remember any of them and it
makes me feel guilty but most of all it makes me think of him and
it is as though i can hear the restless motion of the sea water against the
hulls,
i could hear it, earlier tonight, at the beach the tide was hungry for
the rocks,
and part of me wished that i could throw myself into the timeless pulse,
excoriate these feelings and begin anew
abraded and free.

dancing

my first thought
    after i hopped up,
    picked up the broken halves of my
        bicycle
and stumbled to the curb, sat on the
    wet grass, looked at my
        bloody side
was not
thank god
    i am alive
or
    holy shit
or
any kind of visceral
        terror or
exhilaration
but
   was just
that i was going to be late,
getting to your house
and that
    we would probably not
        go dancing,
and that this was,
really,
sort of sad.