waiting for the ferry on a cloudy day

The sea of common glory
heard waiting for a ride,
a soft symphony of
mixed emotion.
Songs of passion play
next to cheerful chatting,
tourists watching carefully
near natives,
calm as tofu.
The sea rides silent underneath
cars wobbling on this bridge.

And overhead the clouds can’t help
but hover heavily,
as though waiting for one of us to get out,
stand up amongst our fellow strangers
(in their cars)
and shout,
“I get it now!
HERE is what’s important.”

Thus hearing the truth,
finally revealed,
the men would stop chatting and climb
into their trucks,
the woman with the heartbreak soundtrack
would lead us from this place,
and the ferry,
finally arriving,
would receive buckets
of ecstatic rain.

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