I remember standing, somewhere on that rusted dock, the river boat on the murky waters of our flooded city.
Deep fogs and smog set on the setting sun, and we just rode over the gentle currents of the deep.
Over the sunken houses and cars, over the parks and apple trees. I remember looking out on the white cedar swamp, near the
shack we built atop a mountain. Sky scrapers stood out of the water, waning in the current of a new world, and we
road our river boat on.