We rode past a house on fire, one in the afternoon. Street on the river blocked off by orange cones. Firefighters waiting it out slow, lazy in the autumn sun. We rode into an autumn blaze.
Sitting on a bench over Belfast Harbor, the full moon ignited the water with its reflection that shook, swimming slowly to the next shore. We sat watching its change, animals wading through it, width and shape changing, we sat letting it pull us.
In church pews listening to poets read their work from the altar, my body divided under the smell of ocean side church and poems spoken as sermons.
I walked home across the bridge at 2 in the morning with dog on the loose, wine on my lips the color of the water and sky.