Glassy Pavement

Ice expanding through the concrete pores, and the streets too,
and my eyeballs, I think of the amount of time it takes
for the image to build and register, detached from the retina,
seeing that the street lamps are pulling even further and
perhaps they are spewing from me as with the thoroughfare
of the ferry back from Calais after tripping all night in Holland,
the ferry stretching out of me as if I were my own travelator,
stretching out pulling my future from me egg strands stretching out
the bounds of the bow my future from me, me and the ferry stretching
out beyond me, out of me, made of me, no thought of the
dismal stock of celery green that floats the ferry,
my viscous steps, shoved back and forth hydraulically.