Because spatch didn't get out of work until one in the morning, I drove to pick him up as an alternative to late-night buses, after which we kept driving and what with one thing and another ended up at Broad Canal.



The sodium light still burns.



I am having a lot of difficulty with my body, but I like my profile in industrial light.



The Strauss-trunnion bascule ex-drawbridges carrying traffic over First Street and Edwin H. Land Boulevard are desperately unrestored and I love them.



Rob, canal-lit.



Me, canal-lit.

Neither of our phones was adequate to the stairwell in the Kendall Cogeneration Station, sodium-glowing like a glass-boxed ember in the darkened blocks of the plant. We agreed to return some other night when we could walk over the Longfellow Bridge into the bargain. Its arches had been underlit in scallops of electric blue. I came to love this city of water and industry, measured in landmaking and sea-rise. I need to remember how happy it makes me just to move through its layers of time.