My wife, mi suegra and I sit
On the deck of an afternoon tour

Of the landmark harbor where white
Men first missioned indigenous lives

On this western half of the continent
Once unlabeled the four directions

We are shown the famous vessels
That fired on twentieth century possible invaders

A proud face beams about
The sparkling pacific water

You cannot even tell fathoms below lie
Detritus of five billion planetary revolutions

As distant skyline holds memories
Of wilderness in pastel-colored rooms

My family steps off the boat
To breathe the rest of our days limited

With small events chambered in temporary brains
That wait to join historical others in layered meaning

Volume 1, Issue 1, 2006