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
Back to Home Page



Back to Miscellaneous Page
Since 2-22-03