-Come up to my place-

It’s east-facing at the extreme north end of town.

There's a sense of isolation here, and the river

at this location is wide, but less travelled upon

than its southern leg. Here, you'll also sense the end of the river

and at the same time, its beginnings, and while both

senses seem reasonable, one is less reasonable than the other.

You'll be left with a keen notion of this dichotomy if

you come up to my place. There’s industry all around;

international carriers, florist wholesalers, abandoned

textile mills converted to numerous specialty retail stores,

and niche, gluten-free pâtisserie nooks, and so on,

something rarely, if ever seen when when I was a child,

as the mills were active and powerful and ever-present.

From the fifth floor balcony, and with the hill rising slowly eastward,

the weight of structures are stepping stones to this man's eye,

from river to hilltop anchored to ground by those who came before me.

The commercial structures have become increasingly interesting,

and you'll notice everything is clearly defined, but the light

penetrates as the sun rises, –– and I should add, disturbingly so.

I’m moved to blind the windows in order to read the illuminated screen.

It’s a process, readjusting things laying in the early sunlight's path, but

in doing so you'll gain a deeper respect of the solar pathways.

Those facing westward follow the same procedures between

the evening hours of seven and whatever, but it's far less intense.

To sum-up,–– you'll sense that the river ends and begins in the moment

when viewed toward the north, that the sun will set in the west

with a different degree of authority, and from the east, what was once

an intrusion of industry into the landscape has now become an irresistible romance. 

So, come up to my place.