The most alive
We’ll ever be
Is when our days
Seem innocent

And meaning comes
From waiting here
For midnight dreams
Out of reach –

Staring across
This empty bay
Near Conference House
Littered with wrappers

While feelings build
After holding hands
Like a teenage love
Barely lost,

As Jersey hides
What promise failed
On tree-lined shores
Always distant

How Thompson wrote
Of his season’s end
Until facing death’s
Bitter beach.

Some games are done
Before they’re played
But most remain
Never finished

Where summer drags
In brisker winds
By whispering cold
Had its chance.

You sitting close
Says warmth endures
Near Tottenville
Sharing one moment

Since looking out
Under foggy stars
Polluted again
Through more lights

Proves better wins
May lay ahead
If escaping fear
Only happens

Atop benches old
Though graffitied new
Together now
Daring that bridge.

• J. Pigno