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.