on a boiling summers day.
it's beyond hot.
and the river smells of dead fish,
but maybe it will be fun.
we begin
to argue as soon as we
hand the guy fifty dollars and paddle
away from shore.
the canoe is as wobbly
as our relationship is.
what the hell. it feels like
it's going to topple over any second.
i think about jumping overboard
but we're too close
to the Blue Plains Sewage
Treatment plant, so
we paddle on,
her giving me a piece of
her mind, a piece she should
be hanging on to.
i nod glumly
from the seat in front of her,
my oar digging into
the brown water,
thinking that this is what hell must
be like.
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