That kitchen sinking feeling

Do you remember standing over the sink
Heaving? 
I was there, too, I was heaving
Heavily breathing in the basin
There were walls between us
And worlds
You wouldn't have seen me there because
We were not together at your sink
The were two sinks or maybe more
There must be so many sinks to heave into 
When the going gets tough
There must be miles of tunnels of scum
There must be boys who grow into men who push boats through the snot to break it up to make room for more tragedies
They must have nicknames for each other. 
Doesn't that seem like the type of occupation
In which colleagues call out to each other 
Echoing through the stony expanse of subterrain 
"Hey, Noodle, we need an extra oar over here!" 
And Noodle, in the darkness bellows, "Can't right now, Moose,
I'm up to my elbows in it."