Seattle/Bremerton Ferry, Eastbound,
Second to Last Run of the Night
10:15 on a Tuesday. 31 cars don't even
begin to fill the lower deck. 31 drivers plus
so many passengers and I am the only
one on this bow. Rumbling through
treed channels, the moon like an asterisk,
above the city still our of site,
spreads a light along still sound water.
The stars do all they can to be seen and I am
still alone. The occasional house winks
from trees of the channel.
This night, a few shades lighter
than the water beneath. Certainly,
cabezon sulk near rocks, eel grass
brushing their bellies. All they hear,
if they even listen, is a gentle
rolling blech. Their version
of thunder. And here on the prow,
I feel the engine in my legs. The ferry
pulls out of the channel,
as if passing through, Seattle shimmers like nothing
you've seen, nothing's the same.
(Poetry inspired photography based on Daniel's chapbook, Following The Day.)