228
the river
is lived
salt of cloud
come
and the storm
is a stillness
crouching, it
waits
and sometimes
that's all
smell of the
river is strong
air's heavy
every boat is
flickering lit
green red
blue
rain is a
beginning
voices are
cast about then
a slow plash
all at
anchor, riding the tide
lights of the
Venetian behind
Galaxy,
Parisian - white
lights cast
uselessly up in the air
across the
water
as if I were
on the Mainland
dragon boat
workshops dark, abandoned
yellow lights
of Vila Coloane
as of another
age, reminding
most of Macao
is the past

your landscape is very different now, more watery or rather, more water.
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