I am the boy sitting by the water.
With his pocket knife against a walnut,
and the walnut against his thumb.
With a deliberate squeeze,
he split it into two halves,
and beheld the hull of a ship.
It was a grand vessel,
you should grant him that,
and he didn’t feel cramped at all,
until you pointed it out.
You would have him build a rudder,
but I am glad he left without a mast.
For what is this pretense
that we control our direction.