Lightning strikes over parked sea boat masts,
Dividing the sky into puzzle pieces.
A hasty wind turns the harbor top into scales of a fish.
Wines and brew concoctions on a front row table.
Meeting the other for the 20th time but what seems like the millionth,
Familiar as the blood that goes to the fingertips and back.
The decency mirror meets the ghost with a sheet over it.
Two people, but only a small divide in the grand scheme of lightning that divides the sky.
The lines fade as we ask each other who we are.