A Pome a Day for a Year

Colourful rectangles blur and subsume my gaze
as I stare at the concrete sea.
Veins of tarmac, bumped and broken and open,
infecting the soil and woven into the fabric
of beings human and animal.

This paved shore I stand upon
is only one small incline from the sea.
Sound waves crash upon me,
the birdsong of horns sinks.

15 metres from the opposite beach,
I see fellow sailors stood at port, 
bored, listless, tired, distracted,
awaiting green to set course ahead.

This choppy sea as still as the night,
while patient metal sharks inch towards us,
their insignificant plankton, 
daring us to linger in their territory.