Gasoline breezes carry the night upriver. On the beach beneath the bridge running inland, we sit on a tire with our first child inside you. We come again to find what made us happy one day in our vague past. The tide vomits debris. The sun slides into marshes. Three beers and I am drunk. Still we love. I will not count the reasons against it. More beers. We do not talk. The ambivalent sunset expands. Another day gone and no work finds me. Darkness leads us home. The proper houses that see me stagger disapprove like parents which is why we are in this city waiting on our son coming to your need and my neglect.