On a creaking chair
and swinging lift,
the quiet light on white
in the graying dusk.
...
What we’re doing
makes no sense.
I can’t even
read the scorecard
...
On the steam-driven Potsdam,
my grandmother and three children
brave souls timidly entered the steerage
lugging in a trunk all they own,
...
he answers her questions—
beads of perspiration
on his upper lip
...