Lines cast in the fish parade
brought home a white flagged ship.
Tugs and nibbles at bait recent rotted
send the pale steam of surrender.
The other avenue has thought of opening
but is cold and keeps the doors locked.
This night street hangs in distant balance
of star bright wonder and the chilled mystery.
But this white flagged ship,
ported after many pursuits,
bares its cards clean to table
and offers treaties of hope.
Cards and chips held tight to the street.
Back alley gambles lure without promise.
The signs cannot be read without light.
The adventure holds its hand ready.
The one, warm welcoming,
the other uncharted and blinding.
And the world tilts its head and wonders,
"How now shall I breathe?"
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