Row Your Boat

Row Your Boat

Dreams can be real
life turned inside out,
like all the times a gun
cocks and the click
of hammer against metal
becomes the clang
of your deadly
morning alarm. Once
again you escape
as the sun waxes;
you fling into daydreams,
forget parachutes that fail
to open, your sinking boat,
the fact of water water
everywhere as you fall
from the drawbridge,
water, in your hair, your eyes,
your throat. And what if life
is but a dream destined
to run in slow motion?
Merrily, merrily, you glide
down the stream, map
in hand, good luck
on a key chain and suddenly
you forget how to paddle.
You always seem
to blink into daylight before
you can even wonder
what that was all about
and how the hell
did you lose that oar?