Rise from Baltimore’s land, swinging south, the harbor lies cushioned by skyscrapers. Fluffy clouds in pale azure sky turning gold and rose. The moon a companion, rising directly next to my window, nearly full, cold pale light. Sail across land, the necklace of the Bay Bridge below and then..we are floating over ocean…there is nothing below us but clouds that we might drift down and straight down into the depths of the sea, inhabited by stage monsters, florescent and spiky or amorphous with a myriad of tentacles and we will sink and because I am with the magical pale Vikings we will drown but live forever frozen on the sea’s rocky floor.