tomorrow

and tomorrow
creeps in this canoe
to the last part
of the old brown shoe
before the start
of the dark city becoming new.

but the petty
blue that supports the canoe
is farther than the shoe
can walk,
even when new
because the light shrinks
and the canoe sinks
to the bottom of the blinks
that happen when the minks
try to paddle the canoe
into the river beside
the bottle of glue
at the last syllable
of recorded goo
that drips down from above the shoe
as it glides down the river
in the old brown canoe.