south of Porto

she was with the invisible man on the sidewalk,

south of Porto, 

talking a lot of bull

about the rise in the cost of living

like an over-inflated zeppelin 

looking for lost lines and helium loves.

the much weathered fishermen of Aveiro

sat nonchalantly

on their salty chairs,

tongues clucking on and on

about foreign tourists asking about the latest catch.

nearby, a middle-aged woman tossed her bow rope but it missed

everything it was intended to hit,

and she lost her balance listening to the fishermen.

a loud splash was her body hitting the water between the floating dock

and the starboard side of her untethered sailboat.

as the woman was flailing in the brisk tidal current,

in danger of being injured or worse,

the fishermen kept talking about the old days, 

captains of their chairs,

pointing smoothly to the Portuguese sun, which was August hot.

they laughed softly about foreign tourists who kept asking about their catch,

but no one could find the invisible man on the sidewalk,

south of Porto.

and when the wet woman eventually climbed exhausted from the water,

she walked past the fishermen without taking notice of their smiles.