Hares on a balcony like a sloped backwards chair.
I can stop and spare a view of the bay, remember?
What a fog it is to walk among a porch-a-dock
mid-tide today some
wet-bobbing house enforcements.
Well now my cloth and skin
wet and squishy
from the sudden rain on top of
slippery wood stone stucco.
Still a chatter and quack-a-quack
the water slaps shifting, barely perceptibly
close to the edge.
Raised subway rubber reminders to stay away
and the fear of falling to a wholesale soak elevates.
Connective Cube 
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