(poetry exercise from a workshop, had to follow a formula)

what am I fishing for
my line is only so long
my warning so loud
there are only so many words
i can understand

dingy and worn
subways have passed
the tall yellow letters
on dark orange nights
the barge tugged along through the grey-
blue the driver sitting there pushing, and
holding his breath

yellow turns to green
and the future is dripping
off the fingers
brown and bare
crumple it all up in a gum wrapper
the print maroon
the meaning empty