I stepped into the rowboat
In the centre of the street.
I was late to a party.
The tarmac moved like waves,
Writhing and squirming underneath the
Canoe, like snakes.
I take the oars in either hand and leave my close,
The sky was coal.
My friend was late, I had to make my own way.
I leave the familiarity of my household and row down the road
Towards the ocean.
A coral reef of tarmac, populated by sealife:
Potholes and roadkill
The waves grow and danger grows with it,
I have forgotten how to row.