Portland

It never snows here.

Now it is snowing.

The hotel bar is crowded.

No one’s on the streets.

He says,

“Come with me to my ship.”

He’s a freighter captain.

On board, he begs,

“Spend the night!”

On a freighter?

He takes me out to breakfast.

We wander in the snow.

Back home, my friend asks,

“Did you get laid?”

I laugh.