Stormy Tuesday

boat both large and small
big enough to do its job
on the flat black water
a Gilligan's Island sized
fishing boat called BASS TUB
potentially overpacked with people
more and more boarding
down the precarious metal ladders
music and alcohol and good
clear weather pumping us up
the rumble of engines
a tactile announcement
as we slowly got underway
leaving the protection of the manmade cay
looped calmly around Alcatraz
buildings illuminated and moonlit
here behind the Rock the water even
the clouds an art deco frieze
of cream gray and brown
but out over Marin
smudged out charcoal shades
with hints of tarry black
approaching the bridge the bow climbs
the rolling hillocks of the rising Pacific
riding the force and froth
mechanical bull shaped like a boat
slow-motion black force
bay water dropping
white foam climbing
the rain coming at us
tiny diamond pellets
fired into our faces
the two of us
the only ones still out here
lone seals on the nose
basking in the stormy dark