Larry thinks: my hopes are sincere, modest; I have
a friendly view of these moored, pleasure craft
settling upon the blue bay—the dirty haze above them
only enlivens the sunset. Yet the background music
starts like a sign buzzing-on above the entrance
to an empty dancehall. It mildly surprises
the security guard in his continuous wait-and-see
reluctance—he is, without doubt, the scene's most
discrete dancer. How awkwardly the light
now spreads as if this were the Evening Light
as Fate would have it—full of raw contempt, bored
with drunken enthusiasts, but ready to fuck the night.
[ rdking.net ]