The man in flannel

walks out into the water

waist deep.

Maybe 30.

Maybe vegan.

Maybe holding a degree

in some obscure


discipline from Evergreen.

Is he a metaphor or an amusement?

Later, the water trickles down

from plants in baskets

the ones that frame the city scape

in Pioneer Square.

It spills into shallow tributaries

in between the cobblestones.

My feet get a whisper of wet

and I wonder:

what would make me

walk out waist deep

into the Puget Sound?