For Mr (Who Goes To Work By Kayak)
No longer locked in shiny spheres
that rumble-role in soothing speed
too closely packed on lazy tar
like beads confined upon a string
I feel the water freely flow
My paddle tips reach for the sky
The land two ribbons by my side
No roaring engine leads the way
The water-flow starts at my door
It drifts away through the lagoon
One day I'll join it to the bay
and out beyond the Golden Gate
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