Afterwards, on the Quay
 

                                    The sailboats
   have left for this year a-
               long with the stalls
                       and concert stages, the
     people wearing T-
                shirts emblazoned with
                             flags and lyrics to old
                      folk songs. All
   your seasick sailors, they are row-
                            ing home. Rare
   that a cover rivals the
                               original, but
      what can be done in this
                           depleted time? And 
              now we face these
two strangers dancing for
                      us while the buses re-
        sume their hours and
                            prices descend in the
                 restaurants. White
  tents uncover rope and wood. Red
                       carpeting in the
   official shops. See
             how hard it is to en-
                             ter the scene, her
dress ashimmer against the
                          brick gymnasium while an old
     man checks his hat for
                    change and ladders
of sunlight quiver across the
                                water from the dan-
            cers to me. Chimay
                     Bleue brims in my
                                  glass. Trails
        of rubbish float up-
                         on the water, close-
               ly followed by a
                                                flock of gulls a hundred
                                      miles upriver.
                                                           Ugly
                    pointed beaks when seen
                          up close. I am
  sitting on the stone they
                                         use to anchor ships.
   The ferris wheel is slowly
                           turning, but your
        ticket is only valid
                       for today, so go closer to
   the postcard clouds, get
                         a good view. The
                                   lifting bridge is still up high
         enough for smaller 
                        vessels to pass through, sea-
   wards, and who among us knows how
                    many years be-
                                       fore it’s raised again?