Hedge

Evening mist gathers near the river
as if to welcome me.

And i should feel welcome,
flush with wine, my mind replaying

a Sarah Vaughan song
i just heard in ORTLIEB’S.

I could be a Ch’an master
returning the blankness of Pier 36,

of the hedge along Penn Street dripping moisture,
of the sign for RIVERFRONT DINNER THEATRE

faded and barely legible.
Nothing solid, my mind and Poplar

mingle their quiet mysteries
as though sharing the mist.