Ode to the 7-foot yellow-orange two-oared rowboat,
You smell like paint and old fish,
Mostly old fish,
Your paint is coming off, due to bad paint choice,
Your oars are crooked from bad weather, and me hitting my brother on the head with it,
Mostly hitting my brother on the head
Your hull is cracked due to me crashing you against rocks,
You taste like waste, though I’ve never tasted you before,
You sound like constant cracking and popping,
Cause I never got around to cleaning you,
But heck, you’re the best boat this side of the Rockies
: )