Brooklyn looms between us
like some sort of paradise out of reach.
My imagery reminiscent of the Titanic;
yours probably akin to Atlantis
    – mythology, whether or not you see it.
It was bubbly with potential and dizzyingly bright
back when we were
That dewy sheen is as evanescent
    as any fledgling romance.
Something solid needs to form beneath
to support it.
If it can’t evolve, cradle a growing ecosystem,
it might as well sink into the sea
become a watery museum of sorts,
    nostalgia shimmery and hard to bring into focus.

You’re remembering a fairy tale
Yearning for what never was
While I pitch lost treasures overboard
one
by
one