I came here
for a picture 
of a pastel, sun-dressed city,
delicate porcelain blue sky.

But I am here,
and there is metal gray pressing above
and the green tinge of algae and 
old water below.

But I teeter across planks
and splash through thin puddles over
I stare down as my hair drips,
wavering rings in the water.

Water seeps in my boots
but I decide to let it
and move on.
There will be sun elsewhere.