River In the last ten years, everyone from the prosperity-pushers to the pimps have been singing about the river. Take me there, throw me in, fish me back out; we all need a bath. My kids and I take that trek also, straightforwardly, to watch the hotshots on jets kis and throw in rocks. Easy to get swept away with this cleansing and renewal. A pure, squeaky-clean spirit, the crusty, sweaty effluvia of pain and suffering gone with the unchanging pulling current. People are always trying to throw their junk in my river-- soap-boxes and pill-boxes, beer cans, shotgun shells, dirty underwear... you wouldn't believe some of the stuff I've found. I'm kind of a pig too--there's enough of my own trash floating in it already. This landfill-cum-watering hole must go somewhere. Can't say I envy the dude whose job it is to de-pollute the oceans. And isn't that where we all go, Spread-out, slowed-down, and lumbering, eventually. So for god's sake be responsible and keep it to yourself, your garbage that is. Go take a picture of your progeny on its banks and let the river alone, to keep, or tell, or maybe just pass along with it's own secrets. PamEhli/2000 |
Since 2-22-03 |