Ferry Boats

Dusk, I fall into dark freezing waters
between two ferry boats — those great
orange ferry boats that carry passengers
and cars, and men in blue coveralls
who shine shoes, from Staten Island to
Manhattan and back again,
broad-winged gulls floating along behind.
No one sees me. I can’t move,
the water’s so cold my limbs are numb.
I can’t even yell. The two huge
orange boats begin drifting together
slowly (as I knew they would). I notice
oily residue on their hulls, but know I can’t
stop them I know I’ll be crushed to death
between these giant ferry boats I love
so much, and there’s nothing I can do
about it except wait here in this freezing
black water for it to happen.