We walked along the pier the other night.
The soft moonlight covering the ripples of the water.
Against the backdrop old ships past their prime
stand-fast as they no longer have purpose.
There is a cool breeze kissing the backs of our necks.
As we past each light post, I feel as if we are on set.
Scripted so perfectly with each deliberate action.
We admire the view lingering like spring rain.
Lights hang like electric fruit from the trees in the park.
A bride-to-be and her bridesmaids laugh as they stand together
devouring doughnuts in failed attempt to sober up.
A father carries his daughter on his shoulders
so she can see the lights that illuminates the waters.
Friends drink beer and sing songs of the years
reminiscing of days long gone.
Fighting our way through the crowds of people
coagulating on the walkways I take your hand.
We going to escape now just the two of us
racing back to the car we hit the road.
Where we end up, it doesn’t really matter.
We’re writing this film.