Life moving fast Like storm cell rain Washing, running Torrent and quickly Through the drains. Some daze, In this cold and constant place I wish I were a folded paper boat Tipping, curving crests, afloat And chasing the stream Downwind. Away and washing clean A waxed vessel Escaped Pouring through Concrete flooring. I would steer for the sea On waves awash with Urban weeds Detritus sweeping across The deck Of my paper boat built For one. I would run With the water A creased and soggy me All folded and falling apart At the seams.