hopefully not too many metaphors

IF YOU’RE STILL ASKING THE SHORE WHAT
NEXT YOU SHOULD DO

you’re pouring a bowl of frozen blue
berries for your dying body. just 21,
but we’re all a dying body—every one of us—
staring across a sea of cars, concrete, cinderblocks.
it’s not the dead sea, not the red sea either,
still we’re stepping through the middle
holding our heads stiff-neckéd.
please tell me you’re keeping
on. not stalled out

yet. if I could be the yellow taxi cab waiting

to pick you up,
to whirl you away—I don’t know how
easy you’d come. just crack
your window, listen. it’s a rippling
across your town, my town—homebound. so
quiet, but there. you can travel down, too—
today, don’t wade. just plough on through.