-Storm of Saturn-

Route 6 and a northeast heading

toward the outer beaches

a few days out from the heavy
water of "Saturn", (the storm, not the planet)

although aside from the planet’s nasty

overdoses in hydrogen and helium, similarities exist.
on Earth, the cold is milder but in some ways, relative.
The isolation is relative, so-to-speak as we're mostly

left to ourselves, separated from planetary neighbors

by vast distances.
There are gasses everywhere.

so it's Nauset to Wellfleet where the broken
ribs of ships have long laid waste upon the land, 
then northward to Truro where
Edward Hopper had a house,—

"down-cape", but moving northward,

navigating the remnant ice-
age craters, kettle ponds, and out-washed plains

to Provincetown where winterized artists and poets,
philosophers and hourly drunkards draped
elbow to elbow upon the bar rails in conversation,

and waitresses, pleasant and unpleasant,

summer young, and winter hard, serve crustaceans so fresh

that only the day before they waited patiently under seawater
for the doom of the stern-fisher's nets or slatted pot assignments,

not far from where the humpbacks arc from the waster, and yellow-

billed herring gulls glide for whatever remains laying in wait including herring.

Destination: Race Point, the last-stand of the continent

above the shelf, and we can go no more northward nor eastward

lest we die, drowned dead, ghosting the ribs of its ships,

drowned by heavy water right here, here on Earth, not upon

gassy Saturn which is the planet not the storm.

2013