So you know, Karjala is a brand of beer.

A Bridge Beyond

The boys are waiting in the bar
while we walk to join them (for a night
of booze) across a snowy bridge.
The water below is frozen;
The wind above, frozen too;
The harbor cranes are motionless.
I sip a Karjala & think
(before the night erases thought):

Bridges are always refusals
to let reality divide
two points. They span what is to create
an imaginary whole that's
as real as any natural state.
Likewise beer all night (while stars spin
& children sleep) brings together
lives in common dissipation,
builds bonds that outlast morning's fire.

I am trying to develop a poetry of everyday. I am not sure I am succeeding, or whether this stuff is just my everyday poetry. It's hard to tell, and without time impossible for me to judge how well I'm doing. I could use any help I can get!!!

Our car is now in Helsinki, but a bridge across the customs bureaucracy has yet to be found. I will keep looking, though I image we will succeed there tomorrow. Liberate the Matrix!

The harbor buildings smelt like sweat and salami. I imagined a parade of drivers eating quick sandwiches while they waited for legalities to be resolved. Ahead, the road to St. Petersburg (and beyond) beckoned. Behind, all the regrets of a fully lived life. Now, only the salty goodness of salami and the dull hours of stamps and paperwork.