It’s amazing how it even floats, constructed as it is of steel, concrete and macadam and loaded to capacity
with dump trucks, eighteen wheelers, and faded station wagons creaking with the lineage of three or more generations.
Gulls eager for a handout swoop, dive and void at its stern while the riders at its bow keep turning their other
chapped, wind-puffed cheeks to the lashes of cold salt spray. Day in and day out it churns, moving its riders from island
to peninsula, peninsula to island, brooking their absurdities for twenty or so minutes, and then, like the lumbering,
nauseous whale of Jonah, vomiting them up to the stark, uncharted beaches of their lives.