Maybe it’s like the time I got off the boat by mistake,
the wrong island in Greece at twenty-two. Tinos. Midnight.
An empty harbor café.  Also afraid.

Maybe this happens almost every day in my life.
Getting off at the wrong island again and again.
That same loneliness. The old woman in the black dress
is there at the harbor, waiting for someone in need.
She leads me to a dark room, brings cold water in a bucket.

I drink it, too, for the night is long, and I am still so very thirsty.