With fierce concentration,
I slowly turn into this,
as envisioned so many times hence.
Now you turn away,
refusing to acknowledge
my obvious skill, this satisfying reality,
piloting my craft into position.
Alarms sound, the gates fall and
afternoon traffic halts, all elements
integral to this tricky maneuver,
the one that unites us again.
While you arrange the slow turning
of the creaky yet reliable drawbridge,
I reach the point of no turning back.
You once stated I would never find safe harbor
in any town of yours, and yet here I am,
powering on in staccato bits, then drifting,
dreamily, into the pleasure of the slip,
a slow cascade and rumble, brushing up
against the dockside, throwing ropes
that will tether me to you