Lignano Pineta by night, December

In these now familiar journeys,
I could still find a Teutonic order, the asphalt,
the lollypop colours of plaster,
the double-glazed portholes in the walls.
Everything like paint by the darkness. 
And then, here it is: the wet-dock
that opens up like a moon, suspended,
pierced by lights never seen before, that for a second surprised me, taking my breath.