Sausalito

That ferry trip
to Marin was the one --

that's where our hearts parted.
We couldn't bear

to promenade arm in arm.
Instead we split up; I walked

alone by the docks.
I set out to see

galleries filled with locals'
depictions of the sweep of Bolinas shore

or of hushed, cloister-like
Muir Woods, all green and black.

At the arranged time
that afternoon

I joined you where you stood
in line to return to the City, the fog.

From then until we went to bed
we exchanged nary a word.