I walk towards the river,
the night behind me is
too close,
too loud,
too heavy.
The silence the water offers me
pulls me towards the pier.
The boats and paddle boards
have dried up for the night,
leaving only the slow drift
of the swirling current.
At the edge I ask the river for advice
because it’s calmer than me.
I wait longer than I mean to
watching
brushstrokes of neon gold
shine from the house boat windows
and Downtown Portland dancing
in amber, red, and violet bands.
The Willamette never answers me,
only continues to hold the skyline steady.
Chestnut Cowboy 